A Time To Try
by the-spellbound-spirit
Summary: Constance Hardbroom's life had never been easy. After leaving Weirdsister College she has to learn how to deal with the mental and physical scars left by her old tutor. Rated M for references to non-con, physical abuse and self harm.
1. Waking the Witch

**A/N: I do not own The Worst Witch nor am I Jilly Murphy (sadly)  
Firstly I would just like to say a big thank you to everyone who gave me such wonderful reviews and feedback on Return to Cackle's. Without you I probably wouldn't be writing this story now. It's inspired by and based on (and will probably do a small rewrite later on of) Chapter 13 of Return to Cackle's. Trigger warning for some of the flashbacks here. Apart from that, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of A Time to Try. **

* * *

" _Father," she whispered, "Father?"_

 _She stood in the doorway of the dining room, watching the broad man before her. He had turned his back to her as he stooped over the dining table, running his finger along the rim of his whiskey glass._

" _Father?"_

 _Her father sipped the sickly golden nectar that he craved so badly. His bald-patch was shimmering with sweat as his daughter approached him. She sat down beside him, trying to look into his bloodshot eyes. He had always avoided eye contact with his daughter._

" _Please... talk to me. I can't help you unless you talk to me."_

 _He snorted, watching as the liquid in the glass he was holding rocked from side to side in his shaking hand, "I don't need your help," he spat._

 _The girl sat watching as her father reached across the table for the bottle of whiskey and began to pour himself a fresh glass. He had been nursing his current drink for about ten minutes; it was time for a top-up._

" _It's your fault." Her father croaked, "I never wanted you. You took her away from me."_

 _He glanced over at a wooden photo frame containing a picture of a young woman with long, dark hair. She was smiling brightly, embracing a handsome man who was kissing the side of her head. The photograph was quite possibly the only thing in the room that wasn't covered by a thin layer of dust._

" _My beautiful wife... And you killed her." He choked back a sob with another mouthful of whiskey._

 _The girl sighed deeply, closing her eyes._

X

Constance Hardbroom was lying in her bed, her eyes firmly shut, trying to force herself to sleep. The bright sunlight that was streaming through her window wasn't helping her and as she rolled over she glanced at the alarm clock. It was five o'clock. Her alarm would be going off in two hours and she would be getting ready for her graduation.

She had been waiting for this day for three years. She couldn't wait to be free of this freezing cold college. She couldn't wait to be able to pursue a career but most of all she couldn't wait to get away from her personal tutor; Mistress Hecketty Broomhead.

Constance rubbed her hands over her face as she tried to rid herself of the thought of Mistress Broomhead. As she rolled over she felt like her tutor was standing over her. She closed her eyes tight shut but all she could think of was Hecketty Broomhead; her stale scent, her stern glares, her constant disapproval, her ice cold hands trailing across her flesh...

X

 _It was obvious that Mistress Broomhead had never liked Constance. She had picked her out of the crowd of new students the moment she had set foot in the great hall of Weirdsister College; with her long hair, her translucent unblemished skin, her big brown eyes. She was the image of innocence. She stood before the All-Seeing Eye, which had turned green allowing her unchallenged passage into the school. She did not smile like the other students; there was an air of sadness, vulnerability about this pure girl that Hecketty Broomhead had picked up on, almost sniffing it out with her thin, beak-like, nose._

 _Constance had been placed in Mistress Broomhead's personal tutor group. At first she thought it was a blessing; having the strictest teacher in the whole college on her side could only be a good thing, couldn't it? She couldn't have been more wrong._

 _Broomhead had made sure that Constance remained just as broken as she was the day she had arrived at the college. She had embarrassed her in front of the class by reading out some of her poorly written essays. Constance had argued that they were only drafts but Broomhead merely smirked and continued to shame her least favourite pupil._

 _The one ray of happiness in the gloomy college was the bats that had nestled on the picture rail above Constance's bed. She had named them Jonathan and Mina._

 _Jonathan and Mina were Constance's pride and joy. She loved them with all her heart as they were the closest thing to a loving family that she had ever known._

 _One night during her second year at the college, Constance was lying in bed telling the bats about her day, not noticing the figure in the pitch-black corner by her dressing table. The next morning, Constance woke up to find a small cardboard box at the foot of her bed. She had not placed it there herself. Unknowingly, she opened the box to see that there were two shrunken, dripping wet bats laying broken inside of it. She had dug Jonathan and Mina's graves that morning._

 _Inside the box, there had been a note in Hecketty Broomhead's elegant handwriting, "See me."_

 _She had gone to Hecketty's office after she had dug the bats' graves to be greeted by her tutor; she was wearing one of her black velvet dresses and she was wearing her mousy hair in a bun at the nape of her neck._

" _You've finally arrived, girl," She said in her icy voice, "Do sit down."_

 _Constance took the seat opposite Mistress Broomhead warily. She had been called to this office once before. It was a dark room, almost like a padded cell, with overfilled bookshelves covering most of the stone walls. Broomhead's desk was placed beneath the high window which had been draped with heavy, black curtains._

" _I expect you're pleased that I have disposed of those flying rats for you," Mistress Broomhead sniffed, "At least I thought you would have been," she noticed that Constance's eyes were red and puffy from crying as she dug the poor bats' graves in the college's communal garden._

" _They... they were my friends..." Constance fought back a sob, avoiding eye contact with her tutor._

" _Bats?! I've never heard anything so ludicrous!" She scoffed, folding her hands in her lap, "Constance Hardbroom, you really are a very silly girl. Those creatures are a distraction to your studies," Broomhead took a deep breath and continued, "And needless to say, they spread all kinds of diseases. You should be glad that I disposed of them for you."_

X

Twenty five minutes had past as Constance lay glaring angrily at the alarm clock.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.

It almost felt like time was standing still as she watched the second hand move slowly around the clock face.

X

 _Today, Constance wore her hair in a braid. It had been flopping in her face and had been irritating her. She was in the middle of her potions practical test when her teacher, Professor Shakeshaft, a very old wizard with wild grey hair, had announced that Hecketty Broomhead wished to see Constance in her office immediately. How the message had gotten to him she did not know, but Constance followed orders and before too long she was stood outside her tutor's office waiting to be called in._

 _She sat down opposite her tutor, wondering why on Earth she had been called to a meeting during such a crucial exam. Broomhead poured herself a cup of tea and watched her confused student. She ate a few biscuits and sipped her tea again._

" _Why am I here, Mistress Broomhead?" Constance asked sharply, irritated that she had been called away from her favourite lesson._

 _Broomhead raised a thin eyebrow at Constance's tone and began to observe her pupil across the desk. She opened a desk drawer and shut it again very quickly. Her gaze returned to her pupil as she fiddled with her sleeve._

" _How long is your hair, Constance?" Asked Mistress Broomhead, sounding almost kind as she stood up, moving to stand behind Constance._

 _Constance furrowed her brow, "It's down to my waist." She could feel her tutor's hands gently caressing the long braid that hung down her back._

" _Oh how lovely," Broomhead simpered, still stroking Constance's long braid. She stopped for a moment and then started again, coughing slightly as she continued, "I've always wanted long hair. How long did it take for you to grow it?"_

 _Why was she so interested? What could Hecketty Broomhead possibly want to know about her hair? She fought the urge to ask the questions that filled her mind and pondered on the question she had been asked._

 _Her father had never allowed her to have long hair so the moment she had been free of his home and able to go to boarding school she had started growing it, "I think it has taken about six years."_

" _And how long was it before you started growing it?" Coughed Hecketty._

" _It was to my shoulders."_

" _You mean like this?" Hecketty stopped stroking Constance's hair and moved a long, dark rope in front of her face. It was shining brightly in the light that was coming through the window and appeared silky and soft..._

 _Constance grasped for the braid that had been cascading down her back- but it wasn't there! Hecketty Broomhead's eyes narrowed as she looked at the braid in her hand and then back at Constance. She looked at the pair of metal scissors in her other hand and then said in a scathing voice, "Smarten yourself up, girl, and get back to your lesson."_

 _She threw the braid in the bin beside her desk as she sat back down again, nonchalantly. Constance's eyes were swimming with hot, salty tears that were already running down her scarlet cheeks. She grasped for the ever loosening remains of her braid as she walked back to Professor Shakeshaft's classroom, her shoulders shaking as she fought off the wailing sob that was threatening to escape her lungs._

X

She grasped at her hair; it had been returned back to its original length with the help of a potion she had found in one of the books in the library and had prepared with the aid of her potions teacher, Professor Shakeshaft. She never wore it down again after that encounter. It was always pulled back into a tight bun on top of her head.  
The clock on her bedside table had moved only by a few minutes as she blinked, trying to force her eyes to stay shut for a few moments.

X

" _What do you call this?!" Mistress Broomhead barked from her desk in front of the whole tutor group, waving around Constance's purple ring-binder, "You call this an essay, girl?!"_

 _Constance shrank in her chair, covering her face._

" _Well?" Broomhead marched over to her desk and slammed the ring-binder down onto the table, "You only have six months until your work is sent to the awarding body and this is the kind of coursework you are producing for me to mark!"_

 _She remained silent, her brown eyes glancing up at Broomhead's cold grey ones._

" _Perhaps I should read this shameful excuse of an essay out for the rest of the class?" Broomhead cleared her throat and began to read Constance's work. She sat in her chair, covering her scarlet face with her wide sleeves as Broomhead stood over her, reading out the words she had laboured over. As the bell for the end of lesson rang, Constance went to stand up. Her classmates barged passed her as Mistress Broomhead called, "You stay here."_

 _Constance sat down in her seat again. Broomhead leant over the table to look deeply into her student's eyes._

" _This work is unacceptable for such a promising student," Her tutor stated in her crisp voice, her nostrils flaring as she waved a hand at the purple ring-binder on the table._

 _Constance pursed her lips, angrily, "How is it unacceptable?"_

 _The corners of Broomhead's lips drooped into an ice cold, disapproving frown, "It isn't to a high enough standard."_

" _That doesn't answer my question, Mistress Broomhead."_

 _Broomhead raised her eyebrows, her pupils narrowing to pinpricks, "How dare you speak to me in that tone, you insolent creature." Without a moment's notice, she had grabbed the collar of Constance's blouse, bringing their faces so close together that they were only millimetres apart. Broomhead's breath smelt of breath mints and stale coffee, "Do you want to know what happens to girls like you when they speak to me like that?"_

 _Constance shook her head slightly as she looked nervously at Broomhead. Her tutor let go of her collar, throwing her back into the chair. Constance rubbed her neck as her tutor began to pace around her._

" _Now..." Broomhead hissed as she drew a long, thin object from within her robe, "I want you to do as I say, girl," she stood to the side of Constance now, looking down at her, "Take off your blouse."_

 _Constance's eyes widened. She remained motionless as she felt Broomhead's breath on the back of her neck._

" _I said," Broomhead smacked the object, a riding crop, off the dark wooden table, "Take off your blouse."_

 _At the sound of the cracking whip, Constance began to unbutton her blouse. She watched as Broomhead began to cup her own breasts, hissing as she bit her lip. She placed the item of clothing on the chair beside her and looked up at Broomhead who was beginning to look quite flushed at the sight of the terribly thin, pale girl before her._

" _Now bend over the desk. That one, over there," she gestured to the desk at the front of the classroom beneath the chalkboard with the riding crop. Constance did as she was bidden, protecting her breasts from the cool air. Even though she was wearing a bra, she still felt exposed as Mistress Broomhead's eyes followed her every move._

 _She bent over the desk, resting on the side of her head. With a sudden tug to the scalp, Broomhead had moved her so she was face down on the wooden desk. Cool hands traced her back, removing the final protective layer that covered her round breasts. Mistress Broomhead hooked the straps off her arms and threw her bra on the floor._

 _Constance could feel a cool breeze as Broomhead lifted her long skirt. Her tutor moaned as she ran the riding crop over her student's thigh and with a sudden, sharp twitch of her wrist Constance cried out, her knees buckling. Flames of agony seared across her flesh as again and again Broomhead struck her with the riding crop. Constance tried to move but Broomhead was having none of it. She dug her talon-like fingernails into Constance's backside to keep her in place. The young woman shrieked in pain and the more she begged for her to stop the more powerful Broomhead became, relishing in the girl's strangled screams. With a final crack of the whip, Broomhead stopped and looked at Constance, who had forced her eyes shut._

" _Have you had enough?"_

 _Constance remained motionless, panting._

" _I asked you a question!" Broomhead smacked her with the riding crop once more and she screamed in pain._

 _Constance complied silently, nodding her head. She heard Broomhead place the riding crop on to the table behind them but she did not tell the girl to stand. She could feel her tutor's eyes on her as she lay there bruised and terrified and she could hear Broomhead's hobnail boots edging ever closer._

 _A cold hand brushed up her inner thigh and Constance gasped, her stomach tightening sickeningly._

" _Turn over."_

 _She did as she was told, twisting to look at Broomhead whose eyes were gleaming as she drew circles on Constance's inner thigh with her index finger. She moved slowly and Constance hissed as she felt her tutor's hands stroking her. She moved her leg, trying to push Broomhead away but her tutor was stronger as she forced Constance's legs apart, digging her nails into the back of her left thigh which was very red and tender._

" _Don't fight against me, girl," Broomhead whispered very softly._

 _Constance was shaking, her forehead gleaming with beads of sweat, forcing herself not to cry out as Broomhead finally pulled away from her half an hour later. She propped herself up on her elbows, pulling her skirt back down. She stood up very carefully, watching as Broomhead washed her hands in the sink at the back of the classroom._

" _You can leave." She barked and after dressing herself again Constance left the classroom, running to her bedroom._

 _She ran the bath as soon as she got to her room, wishing to remove any trace of Hecketty Broomhead that had been left on her. The water was hot as she stepped into the bath, her bare skin quickly turning pink as she sank gently into the tub. She grabbed a worn down, green bar of soap and began to lather it between her hands, scrubbing the skin on her thighs and on her breasts. She rubbed until her flesh was raw. Regardless of how hard she scrubbed, she could still feel her tutor's hands on her. Constance took the sponge from around the shower head and began rubbing it against her skin. She could feel tears forming behind her eyes. Beads of blood began to trickle down her thigh as her flesh began to split from the abrasive rubbing of her sponge. The water stung as she splashed it over her legs, hoping that it would make her feel clean again._

" _Please, please!" She pleaded, persisting with her rough scrubbing._

X

The alarm clock rang loudly in her ears and her eyes opened wide. She switched off the alarm and began to get ready for the graduation ceremony. She dressed in the gown that had been given to her by Professor Thunderblast, the headmistress of Weirdsister College, and decided that today she would wear her hair down. She brushed it gently with her boar bristle brush, indulging in the relaxing sensation as it glided over her hair. It shone in the light that was streaming through the narrow window. She allowed herself a slight smile as she admired her reflection, "I'm finally going to be free."

She looked at the small suitcase that was sat at the foot of her bed. Constance didn't have too many personal belongings; a few books and her clothes were the only things she brought with her to college. She had no photographs of her family, well her father... Her mother had passed away an hour after she had been born. She had been very slim, like Constance, and her mind and body were just not strong enough to cope with the stress of child birth. Her father had always blamed Constance for his wife's death. Even though she didn't have any pictures of her living family, who she scarcely saw when she was at home, anyway, she did keep a small photograph of her mother in the back of her favourite book; _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ by Lewis Carroll.

One morning when she was four years old, Constance had walked to the local library all by herself. The librarian was shocked to see such a young child walking the streets alone so she offered to walk her home. Constance refused and picked up a book. She sat down in one of the red plastic chairs in the corner and read the book over and over again. After the fifth re-read (over ten hours later) the librarian patted Constance on the shoulder and said she could keep the book. The book was now battered, its spine bent and its pages yellowed with age, but it was her favourite.

The bell rang and Constance folded her arms, thinking of the school entrance hall. With a rush of air, Constance felt like there was a hook behind her navel as she was pulled through a compressing dark tunnel of rushing wind. She opened her eyes and saw that she was stood in front of Professor Thunderblast.

The headmistress was a tall, well built woman, with thick grey hair that was often clipped back to stop it from falling around her face. She could be quite stern at times but most of the time she was approachable, especially if you came to her office bearing a cream slice or two bought from the café that was next door to the college.

Constance had worked at the café for three years; cleaning tables and brewing coffee, trying to save up enough money so she didn't have to go back to her father when she left the college. She had managed to save up enough money to place a rental deposit on a small cottage in a village near a historic site called Overblow Castle. She had never visited it herself, but she had heard stories from the locals that witches lived there. She could hardly believe it, she knew what people from non-witch backgrounds were like when it came to blaming unexplainable occurrences on witches and aliens, but perhaps she would investigate once she had settled in.

Professor Thunderblast smiled as Constance walked towards her, "Ah, dear! How are you this morning?"

Constance's face remained impassive as she saw the woman stood beside the headmistress, "Very well, thank you."

"All set to get your diploma, Constance?" Professor Thunderblast asked happily.

"That's if she has even achieved her target grade, Alicia." Sneered Mistress Broomhead, looking down her long nose at the young woman before her.

"No need to be so harsh, Hecketty. She's got the highest grades in your group."

Constance sighed, looking at her feet as the other graduating students arrived, forming an orderly line. They were silent as Mistress Broomhead's narrow, beady eyes scanned the crowd, pacing backwards and forwards.

"Right, everyone is here. Let's get this show on the road!" Announced Professor Thunderblast, rubbing her hands together in a business-like fashion.

The students were herded into the great hall by Mistress Broomhead and took their allotted seats, Constance sat near the front beside the grand piano that was used during the chanting lectures. She had never seen the piano before, given that she saw chanting as a pointless subject but she did enjoy singing, even if it was under her breath so no-one could hear her.

Constance had overheard some of her classmates saying that they had invited their parents to the graduation ceremony. She wondered if perhaps her father would be there to greet her and say how proud he was of her for receiving her degree, to hold her in his arms for the first time since she was an infant. Even though they couldn't stand each other, she thought perhaps her father would try to make amends for the relationship he had missed out on with his daughter.

The teachers took to the stage; Mistress Broomhead and Professor Shakeshaft standing either side of Professor Thunderblast. Professor Shakeshaft beamed down at his beloved students whilst Broomhead glowered, making each of the pupils her eyes fell upon feel about two inches tall.

"Perhaps it would be best to start off by saying that I am proud of all of you for doing so well in your final exams," Professor Thunderblast began as she approached the podium, her voice echoing around the tall, stone hall,"It gives me great pleasure to see you all as you are now; ready to go out into the world, leave these hallowed halls and experience life. Just remember that your time on this planet is limited. Live your life to the full and never let anyone else's opinions suffocate you. Do what you want to do, not what others expect of you."

The crowd of students applauded which brought a smile to Thunderblast's long face. Constance was watching Broomhead who was stood next to the leather case that the diplomas were stored in.

As Thunderblast finished her speech, she began to call out the names of the pupils in alphabetical order. Each student approached the stage, a round of applause from their classmates ringing in their ears. They shook each teacher's hand and took their scroll from Broomhead. It was going to be easy, Constance didn't know why she was panicking as her name grew ever closer. All she had to do was pretend to be civil with her tutor for one last time.

"Constance Hardbroom," called Professor Thunderblast.

Constance rose from her seat, her legs shaking. Her legs were like jelly as she walked up to the stage. She felt her foot snag on something and she began to fall. She reached out to steady herself on the piano in front of her but her hands landed on the ivory keys and the clattering sound of the piano filled the hall. Her classmates laughed, rather than cheering for her, as she approached the stage with a brilliantly crimson face. She shook Professor Shakeshaft's hand first. He smiled broadly at her and patted her on the back, "Well done, kid. I knew you could do it."

Professor Thunderblast took her hand and pulled her into a hug, "I'm so proud of you. You will go on to do great things with your skill," she pulled away, relinquishing her hold on her student, "Mark my words."

Finally it was time to greet Mistress Broomhead. Mistress Broomhead held out a bony hand and Constance winced as she looked at it, stretching out her own. They touched briefly before Broomhead thrust the scroll into Constance's hands with a snort. Constance stared at it with mesmerized eyes as she returned to her seat. She was glad her tutor had said nothing, she could do without her bitter words to ruin this moment for her. It was bad enough she had already made herself the laughing stock of the ceremony by nearly falling over the piano.

As the ceremony drew to an end, the students got to their feet and cheered, waving their scrolls in the air as they ran out of the great hall. Constance walked behind them sluggishly, watching as her classmates embraced their parents who had been waiting in the wings of the hall to congratulate their children. Constance looked around hopefully but couldn't see her father anywhere.

With a sinking heart, she stepped out of the doors of the college, walking towards the crooked cherry tree that stood alone on the square patch of grass in the centre of the stone courtyard.

She summoned her broom which arrived quickly, her suitcase hooked over the handle. She unzipped the suitcase and carefully placed her scroll inside as she ordered her broom to hover. She took off into the brilliant blue sky; her graduation robes billowing in the rushing wind, her long dark hair streaming behind her. She flew beneath thick white clouds, looking below as the concrete structures of the city began to fade into the distance, flying over a patchwork quilt of yellow and green fields. She headed north, towards her new home and her new life.


	2. It's Just Second Hand News

The sun was low in the sky when Constance came back to Earth some hours later. She had landed in a woodland area, thick with pine trees as she dismounted her broomstick, shrinking it so she could easily hide it in her suitcase. The main road wasn't too far away and she followed the faint sound of traffic until she found herself standing on the edge of a narrow, cobbled street.

Old Noxby was a quiet village with very little traffic going in or out. There were houses and shops on either side of the road that wound around a steep hill. The homes that had been built on the street had long gardens leading onto the pavement. Everyone in the village seemed to take quite a lot of pride in their gardens; everyone's flower beds seemed to be filled with brightly coloured flowers with magnificent blooms that attracted some of the largest bumblebees Constance had ever seen.

As she walked past a rather elegant looking cottage with voluminous rose bushes planted either side of the gate, she overheard a conversation going on between three women who had brought some dining chairs outside to admire the sunset. One woman, an older lady with a kind face, was passing a book to her friend.

"Oh yes, Amelia said you would like that." Said the woman with the kind face.

"This is lovely, Gloria. Tell her I say thank you." Said another.

Constance walked past the post office which was just closing and a fish-and-chip shop called "Betty's" where a crowd of teenage girls seemed to be gathering around the hot metal counter, talking and laughing jovially.

She climbed the steep path that led to her new home. It wasn't too different from the other cottages along the main street with its thatched roof, sash windows and pale brickwork. The only difference was that it looked quite neglected in comparison to the other houses. The garden was overgrown and infested with thick clusters of milk thistles, the dark paint on the door was chipped and there was a leafless climbing plant gripping the front face of the dilapidated house.

She opened the wooden garden gate which creaked slightly as she turned to close it and made her way up the moss-covered garden path. The cracks in the cobblestone path that hadn't been coated in moss had become infested by grass, dandelions or even worse; nettles.

Constance unlocked the heavily worn front door and stepped into the house. The door led directly on to the living room which was a very small room with a stone archway leading into a large kitchen.

The living room was garishly decorated with almost fluorescent orange paisley-print wallpaper covering every wall in sight. The furniture was mismatched; some of the surfaces had been painted with black lacquer, others had been sanded until they were nearly white. The chair beneath the wide sash window was deep turquoise with oak feet and the sofa opposite the wood-burning stove that had been built into the wall was an insipid shade of green with tasselled pink cushions resting on either arm.

In the corner, beside the turquoise armchair, there was a rather large bookcase that had been placed awkwardly between the fireplace and the window. It was empty of books but covered in dust.

Constance wondered, as she placed her suitcase beside the armchair and removed her cloak, if the person who had decorated her new home was blind; the clashing colours were beginning to give her a headache. Who on Earth thought pea green and bright orange would go together? She looked down at the dark wood floor as she walked through the stone archway into the kitchen.

The kitchen was a much nicer space with its clean white cabinets and glass front cupboards. Adjacent to the archway was a heavy looking, cream oven with many little doors covering its surface. The stove was pristine and there was just enough space between the hob and the extractor fan to squeeze in her best cauldron.

She ran her fingers along the large table in the centre of the kitchen, looking up towards the staircase that wound around the corner beside the cabinets nearest the oven.

It was hard to believe that the two rooms that she had viewed so far were actually part of the same house. The living room had been so poorly decorated and the kitchen was a peaceful space. She could see herself spending a lot of time in here.

The master bedroom was only small with bare pale green walls and the same dark wood flooring that had been used downstairs. The bed dominated most of the room with its wooden bed-frame that had been painted white and then sanded down to make it look older than it was. Constance wasn't particularly against this style, in fact she thought it suited the house quite well.

The spare room was completely empty. She would keep this room to store all of her dried herbs.

After unpacking her things into her wardrobe she went to bed. It had been a very busy day and she was exhausted. She stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to the sound of the rain as it thundered against the pavement outside. The warm glow of the street lights peeked through in between the heavy cream curtains that had been left for her.

In the darkness of her bedroom it was hard to see anything at all. If she got up in the middle of the night there was every chance she would fall over something, being as she was in unfamiliar surroundings. She would end up being covered in even more bruises.

As she closed her eyes she felt a cool rush of air coming from the window. She had closed it, hadn't she? She was certain she had. She rolled over, her back facing the rattling sheets of glass.

There was a pressure on her throat; hands as cold as death were wrapped around her neck. She opened her eyes and saw a pair of icy grey ones looking directly at her. She tried to scream but no sound escaped her lungs as the woman forced the breath out of her. She tried to fight against the woman who was straddling her but her efforts were useless; she couldn't move. She tried to lift her arms to force the woman away but they weren't responding. Constance was growing dizzy. She could feel the blood rushing to her head as the woman continued to push down on her windpipe, a maniac smile lighting her bony face.

As Constance collapsed against the pillow, gasping for air, the woman stroked her cheek. She leant into her ear, brushing away the sweat covered tendrils of hair, "I own you, Constance."

Constance awoke with a start, her hands instinctively reaching for her throat. Had that really just happened? It felt like it. Her neck was sore and she felt as though there was a lead weight sitting on her chest which was rising and falling rapidly. Her forehead was dripping with sweat as she rushed to the bathroom to freshen herself up; washing her face and looking at where she was sure the hands had been around her throat. There was nothing there; no bruising, no red marks... It _must_ have been a dream.

The next morning, Constance was sat in the living room (which she had spent the last hour stripping of the horrendous orange wallpaper) with a cup of tea in her hand and a newspaper spread across her lap. She was looking for a job; she knew she had enough money to sustain her for now but all too soon it would run out and she would have to move back in with her father, unless she found a job. There was no chance that she would find a well paid job involving magic in this area; there were no witches academies anywhere near Old Noxby from what she knew. Despite the stories she had overheard that morning on the way to the newsagents, she still thought the stories she had been told about Overblow Castle were poppycock and just superstitious nonsense. No witch in their right mind would decide to live in a ruined castle. It all seemed rather Shakespearean and stereotypical to her; a coven of witches standing beneath a shadowy ruin stirring a bubbling cauldron; it all seemed rather like a scene out of MacBeth. No, it was definitely just a lie the parents told their children to keep them away from the woods.

She was roused from her thoughts by a gentle knock on the door. She stood up, opened the front door and looked down at a small lady with a kind face; the same woman who had been in one of the front gardens yesterday.

"Good morning, dear. Sorry to bother you. My name is Mrs Gloria Cosie," she said sweetly, "I couldn't help noticing you are new to the village. I was wondering if you would like any help settling in?"

"No, no," Mrs Cosie looked at Constance expectantly. She obviously wanted to be invited in, "The place is really quite a mess at the moment."

"Not to worry, dear. I'll see if I can give you a hand," Mrs Cosie stepped into the cottage, looking around, "I see you've already made a start," she commented, noticing the bare walls.

Constance nodded, walking into the kitchen to brew another pot of tea, "The wallpaper was a bit too loud for my tastes, Mrs Cosie." She called, grabbing a handful of teabags and dropping them into the white teapot. She poured a stream of hot water from the kettle that she had left on the hob into the pot and returned to the living room, the teapot in one hand and two clean mugs in the other, to find Mrs Cosie looking at some of the books she had forgotten to put away that morning.

"I see you're interested in magic," She stated, flicking through a beaten old book entitled _The Ancient Almanac of Great Witches from 1800 B.C to 1950._

She placed the teapot on the coffee table, sitting down in her armchair beside the window. She didn't want to say too much. She didn't know what this strange woman would do if she found out that she was a witch herself "I find the concept of magic fascinating."

"Hmm..." Said Mrs Cosie, taking a sip of the tea she had just poured for herself, "I do too. There are witches that live at Overblow Castle, you know."

"I've heard." Constance said dismissively, sipping her own cup of tea.

Now that she could see Mrs Cosie properly, she could see that she was about forty years old; her face slightly lined with age. She had delicate hands and a small golden wedding band on her left hand that she was fiddling with absently.

"You should come to my café at some point- what was your name, dear?"

"Constance Hardbroom, Mrs Cosie."

"I think you would like it, Constance. It's just up the road from here, you can't miss it. We do cream teas, cakes, afternoon teas with small sandwiches and milkshakes and- Oh dear, I've gone on for a bit too long, haven't I?" Mrs Cosie had seen the look of despair on Constance's face as she continued to rabbit on about her café. She placed her cup of tea down on the coffee table and stood up, straightening her skirt, "Perhaps we should make a start with the decorating."

Constance was somewhat thankful for the company while she was decorating, she would only have had the radio to listen to and she despised the music that was in the charts; what kind of band calls themselves ABBA?

Mrs Cosie had brought over a large tub of magnolia paint and they had started rolling it on the walls as they chatted about the village, local jobs (Mrs Cosie said she would put Constance in touch with a friend of hers who had a job opening) and of course the myths surrounding the ruined castle on the hill in the woods. By the time the village church bells rang five o'clock, the living room looked transformed. It was hard to believe that only twelve hours before the room had given Constance a headache every time she looked at the wallpaper; now it was tranquil. She would still need to dispose of the green sofa but first she needed to source a replacement.

She bid Mrs Cosie good evening as she left and returned to her seat in the window, watching the sun as it faded behind the forest. The sky was soon inky black, the stars twinkling like diamonds around the brilliant white crescent moon that hung innocently over the silhouette of the mysterious Overblow Castle. She was sure she had seen something fly over the moon as she gazed at it; perhaps it was a trick of the light, maybe even wishful thinking, but she was sure she had seen someone on a broomstick...

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 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed chapter two and hopefully you picked up some of the little hints of things to come.  
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 **Quick comment; this fic takes place around 1980/1981 so Constance will be 21 years old. There will be more references to music, fashion, technology and other bits and pieces of the time in this fic but if you have anything you would particularly like to see just let me know. I am open to suggestions and would love to see some of the things that remind you of the early eighties.**


	3. Taken by the Wind

**A/N: Thank you so much DreamsInLilac for inspiring me with your wonderful ideas. I hope you pick up on one of them in this chapter.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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The next day was perfect to do a spot of gardening. Constance was ready equipped with her trowel and rake as she pulled on a thick pair of green gardening gloves, preparing to dig up all of the weeds and prune back the dried out and overgrown flowerbeds. She had been to the green grocers earlier that day to pick up some herbs (rosemary and lavender) and once the garden was ready she would plant them in the ground.

She made a start by digging up the thistles, keeping the plants to one side for her potions as she pulled up the nettles from the moss-covered cobblestone path. Constance pruned back the dried out flowerbeds. Surprisingly beneath all the dried out twigs and leaves and flower-heads, there were some newly bloomed flowers coming through; they were brilliant white peonies, some of the most beautiful flowers Constance had ever seen. Despite how bad the living conditions must have been for them, they still grew in this neglected garden. She allowed herself a smile as she cut back the last remaining remnants of the dead plant, admiring her handiwork so far.

Constance's arms were tired now; she had been gardening for nearly two hours and the sun was beating down on her like a scorching heat lamp. She watched the villagers walk passed in a crowd; they looked like school students. The lady leading them had mousy brown crimped hair, a white conductor's baton behind her ear and she wore a lacy black dress. She skipped merrily passed the gate, humming a strange tune to herself, followed by her rather miserable looking students who were moaning and groaning. Constance knew the feeling all too well. Though these girls appeared to be completely ordinary, in her experience walking in a heavy school uniform in this weather was never pleasant. It was bad enough in the outfit she was wearing at the moment; a blue shirt and a long cream skirt. Her hair was pulled up into her usual bun; if it had been down today she would have been boiling alive.

She waited until the girls were out of sight and turned her attention to the leafless climbing plant that was growing along the face of the house. Perhaps one tiny spell wouldn't hurt? she thought to herself, wondering what kind of plant it was. She mumbled the enchantment under her breath and raised the index fingers and little fingers of both hands, directing them at the house.

Nothing happened.

She furrowed her eyebrows, glaring at the front of the house. That spell always worked for her. Angrily, she picked up the scrubbing brush and started rubbing the cobblestone path, brushing away the layers of thick green moss that had started growing there.

Her mind wandered to her job hunting. She had delivered a job application to the headmistress of the village school earlier that morning when she had bumped into her in the newsagents. She was hoping that she would hear something back the same day. Though she did not wish to teach non-witch children, it was the only school nearby that had any vacancies. She sighed deeply to herself; all the training she had been given by her horrid tutor, all the pain she had endured, was worth nothing. She couldn't even cast a plant-growing spell correctly!

"Oh, what a lovely butterfly bush!" Cried a voice from the gate. Constance jumped at the sudden noise, seeing that a shadow had cast itself over her.

She looked up at a small, plump woman with thick, dark greying hair and white horn-rimmed spectacles. The woman had twinkly blue eyes and a kind smile as she looked down at Constance who looked back at the house.

It was indeed a very lovely butterfly bush that had finally appeared and was growing along the front of the house, with impressive purple blooms covering most of the brickwork. The only areas that weren't covered in the brilliant green leaves and rich coloured flowers were the windows. It had been expertly grown; Constance was impressed.

"Thank you very much," she said, standing up to look properly at the small woman behind the gate. She was dressed very differently to the teacher who had been leading the group of girls earlier. She wore a pale pink cardigan over a black blouse. Constance wondered if perhaps the two women worked at the same school.

"You must be new to the village, I haven't seen your face before," stated the small woman, "What's your name?"

"Constance, and you're right. I've only lived here for two days."

"Yet you have achieved so much, especially reviving this garden," she looked admiringly at the flowerbeds, "I can't remember the last time I saw it looking so beautiful. You have a green thumb, my dear. It's almost like magic."

The woman eyed her curiously. Constance laughed off the comment about magic, though her chuckle did seem rather forced, "Oh no, no. I've been gardening my whole life. No magic or trickery here."

"No, I expect not," the woman said wistfully, her blue eyes twinkling, "My name is Amelia, by the way. I'm a headmistress, in fact their headmistress," she gestured towards the crowd of girls who had passed Constance's gate some moments before.

Amelia placed her hand on the garden gate, looking up at Constance. She should have felt uneasy, talking to a complete stranger like this. She usually wasn't any good at making conversation but when she spoke to Amelia it was like speaking to an old friend.

Their eyes lingered on each other for a moment. Constance wanted to say something, maybe even invite Amelia in for a cup of tea and a biscuit but before she could say anything, Amelia said, "Anyway, I best be off. I don't want to have to sprint up that hill. I'm far too old to be doing that." Amelia smiled sweetly as she raced after the crowd of girls who were heading up towards the woods. The class must have been going on a nature walk.

"It was nice to meet you!" Constance called after Amelia, though she doubted the older woman could hear her as she was now quite far down the street and didn't seem to acknowledge the voice calling after her.

Constance smiled to herself as she carried the cut nettles and thistles into the kitchen, tying them in the window over the sink. She looked out of the window which faced out onto the main street, wondering what school Amelia actually worked at. As far as she was aware there were no all-girl schools in the village. There was only St. Christopher's School, the school she was hoping to work at, in the newer estate behind the cottages further down the street, which taught both boys and girls, and now that it was nearly August they had already broken up for the summer holidays so they wouldn't be trailing around after their teachers in the woods.

After she had hung the nettles and the thistles to dry out she went back out into the front garden, peeking over the drystone wall to see if she could still see Amelia and her students. They had gone. She exhaled, turning to look at the herbs ready to be planted in the ground. She planted them in some of the holes she had dug earlier when she had been tidying up the garden, _"Plant lavender for luck and rosemary by your garden gate,"_ Professor Shakeshaft had told her during a botany lesson. She did as he had said; the rosemary now sat proudly beside the wooden gate and the lavender, with its spindly shoots and pale purple flowers, had been planted by the white peonies.

A few days later, after a rather disappointing supper of chicken soup, Constance sat by the window looking up at the night sky. She prayed for a glimpse of what she was sure she had seen a few nights ago; a witch flying across the moonlit sky. Sadly that evening was rather cloudy. There was no moon, nor any stars, nor any witches in sight.

She closed her eyes, her face bathed in warm candle light as she held her copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ in her hands. She knew that it was pointless hoping for a witch to appear but she wished, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Constance opened her eyes again, looking up to the sky. The clouds were even thicker than they had been before. It was no use. She turned away from the window and continued to read her book, indulging in the tales that had consumed most of her childhood.

It was nearly five in the morning when she put the book down on the coffee table and blew out the candle. Constance looked to the sky again which was growing lighter as the sun began to rise. There was no use going to bed, she would go for a walk instead. She hadn't been sleeping properly since she had moved to the cottage; constant images of Hecketty Broomhead plagued her dreams. She felt like she was always there watching her, always lurking in the shadows. She had grown so used to that horrid woman leaping out at her when she least expected it that even now, when she was finally free of her, she wasn't actually free at all.

Constance materialised in her bedroom and changed into a long black dress and tidied her hair. She had no destination in mind as she reappeared downstairs, exiting the house through the newly painted cobalt blue door. She turned the key in the lock and headed down the garden path. She walked up the steep hill towards the woods. She was just going to walk until her legs could no longer carry her and she had to turn around and head home.

The houses at the top of the hill were far more modern than the cottages on the main street; they had been built to emulate the age of the older properties but it wasn't hard to see that they were fairly new. Their gardens were just as long, just as uniform, grown with the same effort that had been placed into the older cottages.

The forest was in sight; twisted and inky black against the paling sky. Constance could see a large wooden sign pointing towards Mrs Cosie's Tea Rooms and, her heart skipped, Overblow Castle.

Without a second thought, she followed the signs directing her towards the legendary ruined castle in the east that she was so drawn to. It loomed like a shadowy fortress over the dark trees. Constance walked down the narrow, winding dirt path through the woods, indulging in the strong smell of wild garlic and the fresh scent of the dew that clung to the long blades of grass sprouting beneath the trees.

It was a peaceful walk; the blackbirds were singing in their nests and the crickets chirruped amongst the clusters of wild flowers. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the trickling of a stream. The first beam of sunlight stretched over the forest as dawn broke and Constance could clearly make out the stone walls surrounding the castle as the fine morning mist began to lift.

Overblow Castle was by no means a ruin, in fact it looked quite lived in. There were black cats walking back to the castle, going through the cat flap in the dark wooden gate. From what she could see from so far back the castle was a building of haunting beauty with its tall turrets that rose into the clouds and the slit-like windows in the strong brick walls.

The gate creaked open and Constance looked up. She took a deep gulp of air and she became invisible to whoever it was that was coming towards her.

Two teenage girls; one tall and curvaceous with long blonde hair tied in a top knot and the other, skinny and quite small with curly red hair, were walking away from the castle, laughing and chattering. Constance thought she recognised their uniforms; long purple sleeved blouses beneath black pinafore dresses... Were these some of the girls from the other day?

"...don't think they've picked a replacement." The red haired girl said as they walked towards her.

"Whoever they pick, they can't be any worse than Miss Monkshood," Said the blonde, grasping in the deep pockets of her black cardigan and drawing out a packet of cigarettes and a pink lighter, "She's such a moody cow," the blonde shook her lighter and began to light the cigarette she was holding between her lips.

"And old. No one can be as old as she is, that's for sure." The red head commented, taking a drag from her friend's cigarette, "I never thought she would retire."

The girls looked like they were heading towards the village as they walked past Constance, blowing cigarette smoke all over her. She fought back a cough as she continued to walk towards the castle, exhaling to restore her appearance back to normal as she reached the dark wooden gate.

She didn't think it would be wise to enter the castle if it was indeed being lived in but as she stepped closer to the gate she could see something attached to the tall stone wall beside it, shimmering in the growing sunlight. She squinted, trying to see what it was that was hidden beneath the ivy. It looked like a brass name-plate. Constance pushed the tendrils of curling ivy away from it, rubbing the sap off the embossed lettering so she could read it clearly. As she read the name that was carved into the brass plate she blinked, re-reading it. A mixture of fear and excitement struck her as her heart fluttered, the reality of where she was finally sinking in.

"Miss Cackle's Academy for Witches."


	4. Changing For The Better

Constance stared, open-mouthed, at the name plate as she tried to understand this new discovery. Witches in Old Noxby? Witches living in Overblow Castle? The villagers had always been right, yet she had dismissed their claims. The witch she had seen flying over the moon hadn't just been in her imagination. It may even have been a teacher or student of Miss Cackle's Academy for Witches, a witch academy she had never heard of before. She was familiar with Pentangle's Academy, Salamander Witch School... Cackle's Academy was apparently a very low profile school.

She ran her fingers over the embossed lettering on the sign and glanced up to one of the tall turrets as a bell rang from inside the school. She decided it was time to leave and head back home. She turned and retraced her steps back towards the village, brushing passed the girls who had been smoking earlier.

The blonde girl turned to the red head, "End of term assembly! Get your arse in gear, Janet!"

The two girls sprinted off towards the gate, barging through it with a loud crash as they charged back into the castle.

Constance soon arrived back at her cottage and to her surprise Mrs Cosie was stood outside her front door with a brown envelope in her hand. She walked up the garden path, squinting at the brilliant morning sunlight.

"Oh good morning, dear." Mrs Cosie cried, as she turned away from the front door to look at Constance.

Approaching the door, Constance glanced at Mrs Cosie, placing the key in the silver lock, "Hello, Mrs Cosie."

Mrs Cosie shook the brown envelope in her hand, "I can't stay long, dear. Do you remember that friend of mine? Well I've spoken to her and she has a job available. I'm not sure if you're qualified though as you are so young."

Constance blinked at Mrs Cosie from the now open doorway, her hand still on the key in the lock, "Which friend?"

"The one I was telling you about last week. Here," she passed Constance the brown envelope, "The application form is in there. It should explain everything."

Stepping over the threshold, Constance looked at the brown envelope in her hand and back up at a rather concerned looking Mrs Cosie.

"Are you alright, dear? You look quite pale," Mrs Cosie asked. Constance nodded but did not elaborate, "Very well dear. I best be off. I need to get back to the café. If you need anything I'm just-"

"Thank you, Mrs Cosie," Constance whispered solemnly, staring at the brown envelope she was holding. She closed the front door and sat down on the green couch, crossing her legs beneath her, her gaze never leaving the brown envelope as she flipped it over.

The seal had been broken. Constance furrowed her brow as she slipped her thin fingers into the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper. At the top of the page there was an emblem; a cat sat on a yellow moon.

Constance pushed the application form back into the envelope and threw it onto the coffee table. She tented her fingers under nose and began to gently rock herself, staring at the envelope that was laying now slightly crumpled on the table.

Mrs Cosie knew... Mrs Cosie _knew_ that Constance was a witch, that's why she had asked her about her interest in magic, that's why she offered to help her find a job.

What if... What if this application was for the same job that the girls had been talking about earlier in the woods? She had overheard them, in her invisible state, saying that their teacher was retiring.

The thoughts whirled around Constance's brain like an all-consuming vortex of paranoia. Had she been so obvious? She never wanted to hide the fact that she was a witch, she was proud of the fact, but after what happened with Mistress Broomhead she wanted to distance herself for a while, lay low to make sure she didn't return; to try and hurt her again.

Then Constance realised... Broomhead had done enough damage, she was the reason she hadn't been sleeping properly. She would never get the distance she craved so badly, regardless of how hard she tried to separate herself from her. There was no use denying it.

Constance took a deep, shuddering breath and reached for the application again, gently removing it from the envelope that ripped when she pulled out the sheet of paper. She scanned the page, seeing the name of the school at the top.

"Miss Cackle's Academy for Witches," Constance snorted, as she considered the irony of the situation. She had been trying to hide her magic yet every man and his dog seemed to know she was a witch. Here she was holding an application form in her hand for a job at a witch school when all she craved was a slice of normality for just one moment of her life!

She picked up a pen that had been placed in an empty cup on the table and began to fill in the form, pausing when it came to the references section of the form. Her stomach lurched as her pen twitched in her shaking hand. She took another deep breath, puffing up her chest.

"I'm sure Professor Shakeshaft won't mind," she dismissed her concern, scratching down her old teacher's name. He had always said how excellent Constance was and had been there for her during the hell she had endured with Mistress Broomhead, though he was apparently unaware of the amount of damage the form mistress had actually done to her student.

" _Don't you worry about her, Constance. Soon she will be out of that long hair of yours," Shakeshaft smiled as he helped Constance apply the hair growth potion onto her scalp._

" _That's if this even works, Professor," Constance grumbled as she gripped the black towel around her shoulders._

 _Her hair had been cut to shoulder length by Broomhead only a few hours ago and she had returned to her potions lesson fighting back a storm of hot tears. Professor Shakeshaft had allowed her to help him grade some of his paperwork rather than continuing with the exam ("You are in no fit state to be brewing potions, young lady. For a start, tears are no good for the health of my cauldrons!" he had said in his soft voice as he pulled her stool over to his desk.)_

" _You aren't the first student to be targeted by her and you certainly won't be the last. I've had a word with Alicia and she is happy for you to take the exam later though she is still convinced that Hecketty is a decent human being," he stated at the look on Constance's face, "How a woman like that became a teacher is beyond me. In my day people like her were burned at the stake," he massaged the last of the potion into Constance's scalp, "Right, leave that for twenty minutes, rinse it out and it will be like today never happened."_

 _Constance stood up, still gripping the towel around her shoulders as she went to the laboratory door, "Thank you, Professor, I do appreciate this."_

 _Professor Shakeshaft smiled at her, his round eyes wrinkling in the corners, "My dear, if I let my favourite student walk around this college with such a bad hair cut I wouldn't be a very good teacher now, would I?"_

She signed the bottom of the application form and laid the pen down beside it just as there was a knock at the door. It was Amelia.

"Good morning, dear. I hope I'm not intruding," she said kindly as she stepped over the threshold, Constance closed the door and invited her to sit down on the sofa where she had been sitting only a moment ago, "We've just had the end of year assembly and I thought I'd go for a walk to clear my head before the girls' parents arrive."

"Not at all, Amelia. Would you like a cup of tea?" Constance called through from the kitchen as she grabbed two mugs from the high cupboard; one black and one white.

"I would love a cup of mint tea if you have any, dear." Amelia replied as she made herself at home, busying herself by looking at some of the items laying on Constance's coffee table. As Constance returned to the living room with two cups of piping hot mint tea in her hands she saw that Amelia was reading the job application Mrs Cosie had given her.

Constance placed the cups on the round wooden coasters on the coffee table and sat beside Amelia on the sofa, "A neighbour gave me that," she said quickly.

Amelia looked at her over her spectacles, her blue eyes twinkling, "I see," she placed the application form down on the coffee table and picked up her tea, "And by any chance was this neighbour Gloria Cosie?"

Constance gulped, her heart racing. She nodded. How did Amelia know that Mrs Cosie was the one who gave her the application form-

"We have a mutual friend," she said, almost reading Constance's mind as the young witch's forehead was furrowed with worry, "You see my potions teacher, Miss Monkshood, is retiring this year and I've been searching for a suitable replacement for simply ages. When Gloria said that a young witch had moved into my old cottage I had to investigate."

Constance's eyes widened in shock, "This is your cottage?"

" _Was_ my cottage, dear," Corrected Amelia, "I lived here with my partner, a wonderful man called Nicholas Nightingale, for many years. He passed away two years ago, very suddenly. I couldn't stay here anymore, there are simply too many memories here," she glanced around the room, as if seeing the memories she had made in the room replaying before her eyes. She looked down at the cup in her hands, "Of course, my colleagues at the school decided to help me decorate the place; Trish decided on the wallpaper, which I'm glad to see you have taken down."

She was, of course, referring to the horrendous orange wallpaper that had been covering the walls when Constance had moved in, "She must be blind to think that was a good design choice," she said dryly.

Amelia nodded, chuckling, "Patricia Gimlet is a bit- how do I put this- mutton dressed as lamb. I suppose she tries her best to fit in with the girls."

Constance allowed herself a slight smile as she sipped her tea; listening to Amelia as she told her all about the school, its founding, the different members of staff.

"Miss Bat- Davina- is a bit of a free spirit. She enjoys nature walks, playing the tambourine, wearing shawls. She's also been listening to some of the girls' music lately and has been playing one record over and over in the staff room." Amelia was obviously reliving the image of her chanting mistress dancing around the staff room, singing a song at the top of her lungs, as she was shaking her head.

"She sounds quite eccentric," Constance said, imagining the woman in her own mind; wild hair, shawls and scarves, bangles and beads... Too frivolous for her, far too fussy!

"A wonderful teacher though, the students love her." Amelia said softly, turning the topic of conversation onto Constance she asked, "And how about you, Constance? Are you sure you want to be a teacher?"

Constance sighed as she looked down at her tea. She remembered being asked this question by Hecketty Broomhead, only in a less sympathetic manner. Her old tutor had badgered her, telling her she wasn't cut out to be a teacher during their training sessions. All Constance ever wanted to do was brew potions for a living and cast spells, she had no idea what actual career path she wanted to take. Teaching had come naturally to her, her teachers at her old school had told her this when she had been asked to give a presentation to the class about the necessity for herbal remedies in a world accelerating towards mass-produced medicines. One student, a girl called Melissa Hembane, had heckled her throughout her presentation. Constance had chastised her for it and this had not gone unnoticed by her teacher.

"I feel that it's what I would be best at, Amelia. I know I am young and I don't have the experience of some of your other candidates, but I have been trained," she shuddered as she continued, hearing Hecketty Broomhead's voice coming from her lips, parroting the words that had been beaten into her, "by the most powerful witch of a generation. I have no doubt in my mind that I will be efficient enough to teach at your school."

Constance took a deep breath, waiting for Amelia's reaction. Her face remained impassive, still smiling kindly at the young witch. She could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen as she continued to gaze at the headmistress, still waiting for the silence that grew between them to be broken.

"You have a lot of determination, Constance," Amelia said frankly, placing her cup of tea down on the wooden coaster, "I would like for you to come to the school later for a formal interview with myself and my deputy, Miss Monkshood."

Constance took a deep breath, bracing herself. There had to be a but, there was always a but.

"Will half past six be okay for you, dear?"

She nodded, still frowning as she knew that Amelia was only going to let her down gently. The older witch rubbed her arm, "Don't hold your face like that for too long, Constance. The wind may change."

Amelia left some moments after when they had made the sufficient arrangements. She took the application form with her, leaving Constance with her thoughts.

Constance had grown so used to being a disappointment; to her family, Mistress Broomhead, that she was expecting Amelia to say something terrible about her application. On the contrary it appeared her luck was changing and as Constance got changed into her best robes and tidied her hair into an even tighter bun than before, her heart was singing. At such a low-profile school there was no way that Hecketty Broomhead would be able to find her. She may even be able to finally free herself from the woman that had been haunting her throughout her time at college. The village clock rang half past six and she folded her arms, materialising outside the gates of the school, smiling at the thought that perhaps her life was finally going to be changing for the better.

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 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review; they mean the absolute world to me.**


	5. Close Encounters of the Bat Kind

"Hello, Constance. I'm glad you could make it," Amelia said as she welcomed Constance into Overblow Castle. It was a very old building with a cobblestone courtyard that normally would have been filled with students at this hour, had it not been for the fact that they had all gone home an hour before Constance had arrived.

Amelia guided her through the halls of the school, passed the classrooms and an inner courtyard that had a bench beneath a classroom window. The ceilings were very tall and the walls were very cool to the touch and perhaps slightly moist.

They reached Amelia's office, that had the same style of embossed plaque on the door that had been on the gate outside, and they entered the room together.

Amelia's office was a cosy room, with deep blue walls and a tall fireplace. Beside the fireplace were two winged armchairs that looked as though they were sat in regularly. On her desk Amelia kept her biscuit tins and there was an overflowing in-tray at the edge of the desk nearest the fireplace. Despite how disorganised the space was in Constance's eyes, it looked very homely. There was a gentle tap on the door as Amelia beckoned Constance to sit down and the two witches turned to look at another woman standing in the doorway.

"Ah, Millicent. This is the young lady I've been talking about. Constance, this is Miss Monkshood." Amelia smiled over at her deputy headmistress who didn't look impressed.

Miss Millicent Monkshood was a very stern looking lady with dark hair coiffed and curled with an expert hand. She had a thin face and a long neck, perfect for peering over people's shoulders. She strode into the office and stood behind Amelia. Were in not for the fact that she was wearing a floral blouse and a grey pleated skirt, she could quite easily have looked like Amelia's shadow.

"Yes. And I suppose you've already decided to give her the job, Miss Cackle." She said coolly, fixing Constance with a glare that sent a chill down her spine.

"Now, now, Millicent, don't be so presumptuous," Amelia said, her eyes twinkling over her glasses as she looked at Constance.

"Well, let's see what this young girl is capable of." Millicent stated with a sneery smile, staring at Constance expectantly with her dark eyes.

Constance felt like a little girl, sat there in front of these two far superior witches. Amelia was a lovely lady, but her deputy headmistress was very controlling. She prayed that she would never end up like that.

"Well, Constance?" Amelia placed a hand under her chin, "Tell my deputy all about yourself."

Constance took a deep gulp of air, feeling the icy stare from Millicent "Well... I-I... I went to Weird... Weirdsister College for th-three years and I studied potions and spell craft," she sat on her shaking hands as she continued, "I learned a lot from my tutor on how to teach and I have all of the... the qualifications that will be essential to teach at this school."

"And your tutor was?" Millicent asked, waving a hand as if she was digging for more information, "Spit it out, girl, or will that stammer of yours not let you?"

She took a deep breath, steadying herself, "Mistress Hecketty Broomhead."

Millicent turned her long neck sharply, looking down at Amelia with wide eyes. The two teachers exchanged a look.

"I see." Amelia whispered, jotting something down on a sheet of paper that had been lying on her desk, pushing it along to Millicent who nodded, "Constance, I'm going to have to have a word with Miss Monkshood. I'll show you to the staff room. I'm sure Miss Bat would quite happily make you a cup of tea and fetch you a biscuit."

Amelia put a kindly arm around Constance who was feeling as though she had done something terrible by mentioning Mistress Broomhead. She had blown her chances, she had grown quite fond of Amelia and was looking forward to working with her. Now she was fully aware that this was never, ever going to happen.

The staff room was just down the corridor from the headmistress' office and was occupied by two women; one with wild mousy hair that appeared to have been crimped, who was wailing at the top of her voice. The older woman had her hair styled into a beehive. She was wearing a luminous pink sweatband around her head and a turquoise leotard as she stretched over the edge of the table.

Constance blinked at the strange sight that was presented to her; the woman with the mousy hair was spinning on the spot, waving her arms around her head, still shrieking in the same high pitched voice.

"Miss Bat," Amelia called over to the wailing woman who couldn't hear her over the record that was playing and her screeching, "Davina!"

"BAD DREAMS IN THE NIGHT! THEY TOLD ME I WAS GOING TO LOSE THE FIGHT! LEAVE BEHIND MY WUTHERING WUTHERING WUTHERING HEIGHTS..."

The blonde stopped stretching and walked over to the record player, lifting the needle. Davina continued to wail at the top of her lungs, spinning on the spot, her arms over her head.

"SO COLD! LET ME IN-A-YOUR WINDOW-" She screeched, padding the air with her tiny hands.

"DAVINA!" Shouted the blonde, making Davina jump, "Amelia's talking to ye!"

Davina looked over at the two witches in the doorway, taking her white conductor's baton out from behind her ear and laying it gently on the table, "I am ever so sorry, Amelia. You see when a moment grasps me like that I simply have to take it..." She went on as Amelia gestured for Constance to sit down.

"She's always like this," Said the blonde as she resumed her stretches, "You'll get used to it eventually. I'm-"

"Patricia Gimlet, yes. I've heard about you." Constance looked at the blonde woman and understood exactly what Amelia meant. A woman of that age should not be dressing in a leotard. Although Patricia had a good figure, her current outfit was completely inappropriate; a robe or a long dress would be more suitable for a woman in such a role.

"... It's all a part of being a chanting teacher. It's a role that requires a teacher of delicate sensitivities and one that can be whisked away in a moment." Davina mused as she whirled into a seat, "Who's this?" She looked at Constance with a smile.

"This is Constance Hardbroom, the young lady I was telling you about earlier," Explained Amelia as she placed a hand on the back of the chair Constance was sitting in, "I was hoping that you two could keep her company while I have a word with Millicent."

"Nar bother. Just leave 'er in our capable hands," Patricia said as she too sat down at the table, "We'll look after ye, petal."

Amelia smiled as she left the staff room, praying that her more eccentric members of staff wouldn't scare away such a promising candidate for the role as she made her way back to her office.

She opened the office door to see a less than impressed Millicent glaring back at her, "I warned you."

"She seems like a really lovely person, Millicent," Amelia stated as she returned to her chair, Millicent leering over her shoulder, "Despite the fact that she was taught by Mistress Broomhead."

"And Hecketty Broomhead probably sapped away all of her self confidence too. Face it, Amelia, that girl will be nothing but trouble for this school."

Amelia didn't agree. She had a good feeling about Constance Hardbroom, "She seems confident enough to me."

Millicent rolled her eyes as she looked at Amelia, a trace of frustration on her long face, "You don't understand. Hecketty Broomhead crushes any student she comes into contact with. It will only be a matter of time until young Constance crumbles in front of a class. Perhaps that other woman- what was she called?"

"Harriet Hallow." Amelia said, thinking of the bumbling girl who had ticked all of the boxes for her deputy but didn't have the air of authority that she was looking for.

"Yes, she was a promising candidate. Why not her?" Millicent said waspishly as she sat in the chair opposite Amelia. She crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest.

Amelia smiled, picking up Constance's application form and reading through it, "Three years working part time at a café while she was at Weirdsister, a BA Honours in Potion Making and Herbal Identification as well as several qualifications in medicinal magic, an advanced diploma in Spell Craft and Spell Casting..." Amelia looked up from the form and at her fuming deputy. She looked as though smoke was about to come out of her ears, "If she isn't a suitable candidate, then I don't know who is. I'm not going to show favouritism towards a Hallow purely because their family has helped the school in the past." She added as Millicent seemed as though she was about to interrupt.

Millicent glared, "The Hallows are a good family, Amelia. Anyone can see that. And any student who is taught by Hecketty is a disaster waiting to happen. I should know, Amelia, we trained together at university."

Amelia heaved a heavy sigh as she gazed longingly at the application form for the young witch that was sitting with Davina and Patricia.

Meanwhile in the staff room, Constance was witnessing yet another of Davina's performances, but this time the chanting mistress was joined by Patricia as they stood in front of the bewildered young witch with an apparently thoroughly practised dance routine.

"Honey, honey, how you thrill me." Sang Davina.

"Ah-hah, honey honey!" Patricia echoed.

"Honey, honey, nearly kill me."

"Ah-hah-"

"How about we don't sing?" Constance snapped, covering her ears to drown out the painful warbling of the older women. Despite her arguments, they continued. Constance rolled her eyes as she stood up to leave the staff room; she needed to get away from the horrific cacophony. Perhaps Amelia had said what she need to say to Millicent.

As her hand touched the door handle, the door crashed open to reveal a furious looking Millicent Monkshood and a rather pleased Amelia Cackle. Millicent stomped towards her chair by the window and sat down, looking more like a moody teenager than an elderly witch. Amelia sat down opposite her deputy and invited the other women to take their seats. Constance lingered at the door for a moment until Amelia said, "You too, Constance," and she took the chair that she had been sitting in before, the seat that just so happened to be beside Amelia.

"Okay, ladies," Amelia began, "As you know we have had a number of candidates coming to the school hoping to replace Miss Monkshood. I believe that we have found her replacement." She turned to look at Constance.

Constance felt the blood drain from her face. Surely she couldn't be talking about her?

"So Constance, we will need you to live in the school, during the week at least. All your expenses would be paid for; food, living costs. All of your wages would go towards your rent for the cottage if you decide to keep it and the rest would be pocket money."

The young witch blinked. She had been forced to mention Broomhead... that should have scuppered her chances.

Millicent scowled, "As for your capabilities as a teacher, I will allow Amelia to make that decision."

Patricia and Davina looked at each other. They were used to the stern deputy headmistress' snapping and her temper tantrums. Her current tone wasn't foreign to them.

"Ye'll be alright, flower. Don't ye worry." Patricia smiled as she patted Constance on the arm. Constance narrowed her eyes, glaring at the strange teacher who insisted on being over-familiar.

"Ah yes, while I remember!" Amelia almost bounced out of her chair as she turned to Constance, "Follow me, I'll show you to your potions lab."

Constance's potions laboratory was just down the hallway from the staff room. There were three wooden benches, each with two cauldrons on. The walls were bare and painted in an insipid yellow. Amelia guided Constance to the front desk which was empty; Millicent Monkshood had already packed away her things. The long window on the right hand side of the room looked out to the inner courtyard. As she gazed around the classroom, Constance was filled with a sense of pride, a feeling that she had never been allowed to feel before. There were several wooden cabinets, each of different sizes and these too were bare.

"I know my deputy is quite... stubborn. But I do hope this is okay for you, dear." Amelia said quietly, "The job is yours if you want to take it."

Constance couldn't refuse. She had a good feeling about this school.

"What do you think?" Amelia asked, her eyes twinkling as she gazed expectantly at Constance, "Of the classroom, I mean?"

Constance seemed to inflate, a warm sensation running through her body as she looked back at Amelia, her stomach filled to the brim with butterflies, "It's perfect."

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 **A/N: BIG BIG THANK YOU to DreamsInLilac and Plebs for helping me with this chapter. I hope you guys like it.**

The songs Davina is singing by herself is Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush and the song she sings with Patricia is Honey, Honey by ABBA.

Any ideas and suggestions are welcome :)


	6. An Unexpected Responsibility

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback I have had so far on this fic. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thank you to DreamsInLilac for inspiring me with a couple of ideas for this chapter :D**

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In the weeks before the start of the new term, Constance had spent some time practising her potion making and buying some new clothing. She had also spent some time purchasing some decorations for her new classroom; some papyrus scrolls with diagrams of different herbs and medicinal wild flowers and some decorative bottles and vases.

She had packed her suitcase during the last week of August, packing everything she needed during the week for when she was staying in the school; her clothes, her medicines and a new potion she had been experimenting with. The formula had been in a book she had owned for years but she had never noticed it before. It kept the nightmares of her form mistress at bay but the potion did keep her awake at night. It was in the name really, Wide Awake Potion, there was no surprise that it would keep her up.

Constance and Amelia had agreed that she would stay in the cottage at the weekend unless it was vital that she was at the school, like for school trips or for when an extra pair of hands were needed around the castle. Amelia had explained that there was always a school trip during the autumn half term which was just after the Halloween display. Normally they went to magical workshops or to visit other schools. It was nothing like when Constance had been at school. She had been dragged out on hiking trips with her year group. Despite her loathing of P.E. (a pointless subject, in her opinion) Constance did enjoy getting out in the fresh air and as hiking wasn't such a difficult exercise it soon became a pleasant break from being locked in the classroom with her teachers all day.

The first day of the school year arrived and it was a bitter, windy day. The trees creaked, their long branches swinging madly as cannon blasts of rain thundered to the ground. It would be a hard flight (Amelia had said it was a Cackle's tradition to fly over the gates at the beginning of term, unless you were a first year student.) Under cover of the vast forest at the top of the hill, Constance commanded her broom to hover and after she called, "Up and away!" it took off into the air at a smart pace. She could see the first years walking miserably along the boggy dirt path leading up towards the castle and could see students up ahead flying across the grey sky on their broomsticks, their cats in their wicker baskets yowling as water was beginning to come through the finely woven material.

Another blast of ice cold rain erupted from the sky and Constance was knocked sideways by the force of it, her cloak tangling over her head. She pushed it away quickly, but before she could do anything else-

"Ah!" She shrieked as she was jolted forwards, nearly coming off her broom.

The broomstick had snagged on a tree branch that was swaying wildly in the gale. She hung on tightly to the end of the broom as it tried to dislodge itself. She commanded it to fly upwards out of the snag but it was in a vice grip. It was no use; she would have to resume the rest of her journey on foot. She climbed off the broomstick cautiously, bracing her foot on a sturdier looking branch that wasn't swaying as much in the wind and she gently prised the branches and twigs off her broom. With a forceful tug the broom finally came away from the tree, but it was beginning to fall and was taking Constance with it as she fell backwards, still holding tightly on to the broom.

"Hover, broom!" she cried as the broomstick headed towards the ground at a startling rate. It stopped with a jerk and then remained still, hovering in the air, "Now down, carefully."

The broom returned to Earth like a feather, slowly reaching the ground with far more grace than it had in the air. Constance breathed a sigh of relief as she removed her ice cold fingers from its handle and carried it in one hand and, after she had removed it from the soaking wet broom handle, her small leather suitcase in the other.

She walked along the muddy dirt path, the sludgy brown ooze catching the bottom of her cloak as she marched towards the school gates which were open. The first years had already arrived. She raced towards the gates just as they began to creak shut. She grumbled angrily to herself, looking at her broomstick. It was soaking wet, it wouldn't perform properly until it was dried out (broomsticks never do perform well in damp conditions) but perhaps if she praised her broomstick it would do as she wanted.

She felt rather silly, but she stroked the broom handle and whispered, "Come on, beautiful broom. I need you to get me over that wall," she tapped it once and commanded it to hover, and it did.

Constance mounted the broomstick and flew over the wall with her usual grace, despite the terrible flying conditions. She could see the crowd of first years in the yard and she thought she could see a bright green something being swung about in front of the tall stone archway leading towards the entrance of the school. She descended slowly into the courtyard and was greeted by rather frightened looks from the first years. The other students didn't appear to notice her, too absorbed in keeping dry under the broom shed.

Davina and Patricia Gimlet were standing in front of the doorway, swinging vivid green pom-poms in their hands. They were trying (and failing) to do high kicks and were shrieking a chant like a pair of football hooligans.

"Rain may be pouring  
But our witches our soaring  
Ooh ahh Ooh ahh  
Yeah Cackles!"

Constance rolled her eyes as she approached her new colleagues.

"Good afternoon, Constance," Davina said in her breathy voice, "I hope you're enjoying our little chant-"

"Actually, I'm not. I'd like to get inside and warm up. Excuse me," Constance snapped as she pushed passed Davina and Patricia, who looked at each other.

"It must be the weather," Davina explained as Patricia raised an overdrawn eyebrow, "It does things to people."

Constance was dripping wet as she entered the hallway, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her as she headed towards the staff room. Amelia was sat in a winged armchair by the fireplace, warming herself. She had wrapped up in an orange cardigan. She looked up as Constance closed the door.

"Hello Constance, dear," she said as she rose to her feet, "Sit in front of the fire and take off that cloak. You must be frozen through."

Constance shivered as she put down her broomstick and suitcase and removed her cloak, handing it to Amelia. She sat by the fireplace and warmed her ice cold fingers.

"How was your flight?" Amelia asked, observing the dirty trail of mud that had formed along the bottom of Constance's black cloak as she folded it and put it out of the way.

"Positively dreadful," Constance said shortly, "I was blown into a tree and had to resume on foot."

"So that's why you have a twig sticking out of your hair," Amelia chuckled as she plucked a long, leaf-covered twig out of Constance's bun, "I thought perhaps you had... never mind."

Amelia went over to the kettle, which had already been boiled, and poured herself and Constance a warm cup of chamomile tea. She sat opposite her newest staff member and smiled sweetly at her. Constance sipped her tea.

They were silent for a few minutes whilst Constance warmed up until finally she said, "So which subjects will I be teaching?"

Amelia's eyes twinkled as she looked at Constance, "Well potions, obviously. You will also be taking over the rest of Millicent's classes; botany, herbs and fungi, plant identification, mathematics and any lessons that come hand in hand with being a form mistress, so cat training, broomstick flying and the witches code-"

"Form mistress?" Constance choked on her tea, "Amelia, I thought I was only going to be a potions teacher."

Amelia furrowed her brow and bit her bottom lip, "Oh dear, I am so forgetful. I meant to tell you during your interview that you would be looking after the first years. I hope you don't mind."

Constance sighed, looking into her tea. She would enjoy looking after the first year class, who looked so scared and helpless in the courtyard, but she worried that she wasn't experienced enough to be given such a massive responsibility.

"Patricia looks after the second years," Amelia said softly, trying to fill the silence, "And she teaches jewellery design and witches etiquette," Constance snorted at the thought of Patricia Gimlet teaching witches etiquette when she was the least traditional witch in the school, except perhaps Davina, "Davina looks after the third years and she teaches chanting, myths and legends and flower gathering and I look after the fourth years and I take the spells class, history and origins and cover any lessons if a staff member falls ill."

"What about the fifth year?" Constance asked, remembering during a meeting with Amelia last week that she was needing to order some of the grey fifth year sashes.

"The fifth year is optional, this year we don't have any. I am thinking about discontinuing the fifth year, actually. We never get many applicants wishing to stay with us for the extra year."

Constance remembered when she had been at school. In the fourth year you receive your Witches Higher Certificate so really there is no need to stay on for the fifth year unless you want to receive an advanced diploma in a specific subject before you go on to either work or university. Constance had jumped at the chance to spend another year away from her father.

"So will you be okay being the first year form mistress?" Amelia asked, looking at the clock.

Constance allowed herself to smile, "Of course, Amelia. I'm just worried that I'm not experienced enough."

Amelia smiled kindly, "Don't worry, dear. From what I can see you have more than enough experience to look after them."

The clock chimed five o'clock.

"Time for roll call, Miss Hardbroom," Amelia said, standing up. It felt strange to Constance to be addressed by her surname and though she was expecting it, it would take some getting used to.

Constance stood up from her chair, now thoroughly warmed through by the blazing hearth, and took the clipboard that Amelia passed her with the list of students' names on. Amelia opened the staff room window and rang the bell that hung just outside, "First years into line, everyone else into the great hall."

The older students let out an audible sigh of relief as they were finally allowed to get into the dry castle. The first years formed a horizontal line across the courtyard, going from the archway to the broom shed. Davina and Patricia herded the older students into the hall as Constance followed Amelia (who insisted on her being there to register her new form group) into the courtyard which was covered in large puddles. The rain was easing off now and had become a soft drizzle, though the wind was still roaring.

"Welcome first years to Cackle's Academy for Witches. I am your headmistress, Miss Cackle, and this is your form mistress, Miss Hardbroom," Amelia looked up at Constance, "Let's get this done quickly so we can get them inside. They look frozen solid."

Amelia wasn't too far off the truth. Were it not for the fact that it was September, Constance could have easily imagined a few icicles hanging from the students' pointed hats. Some of the girls were shivering, others had bundled themselves up in their soaking wet robes.

Constance looked at her clipboard, "Julia Chestnut," she announced.

"Present, Miss Hardbroom," said a slim, brown haired girl in the middle of the line.

"Margaret Hay."

"Present Miss Hardbroom," a very small blonde girl squeaked.

"Isla Moonshine."

Isla answered, she had a round face and hair the same colour as milky tea, "Present Miss Hardbroom."

"Caitlyn Shepherd."

Caitlyn had flaming red hair, "Yeah."

Constance raised an eyebrow at Caitlyn's snotty tone as she continued, "Laura Snowdrop."

Laura was a very pale girl with long dark hair tied into a ponytail that hung down her back, "Present, Miss," she said very quietly, barely audible over the rushing wind.

"And finally, Delia Willow."

A tall girl with curly brown hair answered, "Yes, Miss Hardbroom."

Constance ticked off Delia's name and looked up at the class, "Into the great hall, girls," and she and Amelia herded the new first years into the great hall and took their places at the podium beside Davina and Patricia.

Constance took a seat, folding her arms over her chest as Amelia welcomed the students back to the school for another year. Davina and Patricia sat beside each other. Constance winced at Patricia's garish outfit; a hounds-tooth blazer on top of a violent pink blouse with a green pencil skirt and thick black tights. Her short blonde hair had been teased to within an inch of its life and she wore her usual bright red lipstick with her blue eye shadow and navy blue eyeliner.

"...And I am happy to welcome our newest member of staff, who will be replacing Miss Monkshood who retired at the end of last term. This is Miss Hardbroom. She will be your potions teacher."

Constance jumped at the mention of her name. Amelia gestured for her to stand up and she did so, walking up to stand beside Amelia.

"Thank you, Miss Cackle," Said Constance as Amelia took her seat, "I am looking forward to getting to know you all and- Who is that talking at the back?!"

All heads turned to the back of the hall and Caitlyn Shepherd stood up, "Do you mean me, Miss?"

"Yes. Would you like to share what was so important that you had to talk during assembly?" Constance was already irritated by this insolent girl who had seemed so uninterested in the courtyard. She was going to be difficult to teach.

"No Miss, I can't remember."

Constance rolled her eyes as Caitlyn sat back down, throwing her long red hair over her shoulder, "Let that be a lesson to you all," Constance felt a foreign impatience growing inside of her, "I will not tolerate impudent behaviour nor will I put up with slipping standards. In my classes you will put your utmost effort in."

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," Chorused the students in the same sing-song voice that was used in schools everywhere.

"Now, for the school song. If you will, Miss Bat," Amelia said, standing up from Constance's seat. All the teachers rose to their feet as Davina took her place at the large organ at the back of the hall. The students stood up as well and began to sing the school song.

"Well handled, Constance. Don't let 'em walk all o'er ye," Patricia whispered under cover of the droning voices of the students, "Maybe loosen up a little bit when thee get to know ye. Thee don't want someone jus' like Monkshood."

"I will discipline them how I wish, Miss Gimlet," Constance said quietly, "I won't dance around the subject."

As the last note was played on the organ the students began to file out of the hall, led by the head girls, Jennifer Moonshine and Minerva Duncan. The other teachers followed, Constance heading back to the staff room to collect her things. As she came out of the staff room she saw two third years loitering in the hall way.

"Shouldn't you girls be sorting out your things?"

The two girls jumped, "Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss."

They walked up the spiral staircase, their voices echoing off the stone walls. Constance followed the stairs up to the teacher's wing, a long winding corridor with several different rooms; some for the teachers, some for storage and some for guests. Constance found her room easily, the doors had the same brass nameplates that were on all of the doors in the castle.

Constance's bedroom was quite small and simple; there were no decorations, only one bookshelf, one desk with a high backed chair and a single bed with a wire metal frame. The walls were cold stone and there was a single slit window like the ones used by archers in medieval times. In the window there was a plain white candle that had been melted from being used; obviously this had been Millicent's old room.

She placed her broomstick against the wall and unzipped her suitcase, hanging up her new dresses. Her wardrobe looked quite morose, it only had black clothing in. It looked far better than she expected Patricia's did, her wardrobe would be like an explosion of colour. Thinking of her colleague, Constance wondered if Patricia was right, maybe she should go a bit easier on the girls...


	7. Scars

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks, as always, to DreamsInLilac for playing ping pong with ideas with me :D**

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The next morning, Constance awoke from her metal bed with a very stiff neck no doubt caused by the rock hard pillow that she had been sleeping on. She stretched, rolling her neck to try and relieve the tension, and climbed out of bed. She had slept in her favourite pyjamas; a pair of stripy red and black ones with black ribbon tying the bottoms at the waist. Constance slipped out of these, folding them neatly under her pillow. The air was cool against her bare flesh as she walked across the bedroom to grab one of the purple towels that had been organised and placed in the cubbyhole at the top of the cupboard.

There were three bathrooms in the teacher's wing; one solely for Amelia and two others, shared between Constance, Davina and Patricia. All three bathrooms were very basic with steel bathtubs and porcelain toilets with wobbly wooden seats. The bathroom Constance was using also had a sink that was cracked just underneath the hot water tap so if you ran the water too quickly there was a chance you could get scolded (Amelia had warned her of this after Davina had been a bit overzealous playing with her new rubber duck, Lawrence).

Constance knocked on the bathroom door and, hearing no response, opened the door. She could hear a soft voice singing but she had no idea where it was coming from, perhaps one of the students was already awake and was singing out of her bedroom window. Constance removed her towel and placed it on top of the wide mahogany cabinet that was opposite the bath. She turned the taps at the foot of the bath and waited patiently for the water level to rise.

She listened to the voice, it sounded very close. It was one of the fourth year girls, Constance thought as she tried to tune the voice out, the fourth year corridor was just beneath the teacher's wing so no doubt she would be hearing a lot more than singing first thing on a morning as term went on.

When Constance was happy that the temperature of the water was right she eased herself into the bath and with a soft splash she sat down. The metal was cool against her skin, which was beginning to go red as it came into contact with the water. She scooped the water over her right thigh. The scars on her leg appeared scarlet against her skin. Water always drew them out, usually they were barely noticeable.

She traced them with her finger. She remembered when she carved the fine red scars into her skin; one for every time Broomhead beat her, one for every tear she shed, one for every anxiety attack, one for every time she wanted to feel human again. The sight of her blood as she took the disposable razor and pressed it against her leg, dragging it until she broke the skin, made everything seem normal, it made everything okay again. She could almost feel the blood trickling down her leg as she closed her eyes, remembering the sweet feeling of humanity, of control, that consumed her with every cut.

Constance was drawn out of her trance by a strange knocking noise coming from inside of the cabinet. With a slosh of water she climbed out of the bath and wrapped herself in her towel again. She opened the cabinet door slowly and with a loud thud there was a heap of black shawls on the floor in front of her.

Davina flopped out of the cupboard, her crimped hair wild, her small spectacles sitting on the end of her nose as she rose to her feet,

"Oh, good morning Constance." Davina said quietly as she pushed her glasses back up her nose, pulling her shawls back over her shoulders.

Constance blinked at her, "What on Earth are you doing?!"

Davina smiled, turning to close the cabinet door, "The silence of the bathroom is so soothing for the soul. I tend to just sit in here and relax."

Constance rolled her eyes, "But why the cabinet?"

"It's out of the way and it has a pleasant echo so I can practice my chanting."

Sighing deeply, Constance waited for Davina to leave the bathroom and returned to her morning bath. She washed her hair and then returned to her bedroom to dry it off. Her hair was the only exception to her strict rules regarding the Foster's Effect. It wasn't trivial, nor was it selfish, to dry her hair using magic. She pointed her casting fingers at her long hair which dried before her eyes in her bedroom mirror. It had gone into soft waves that rippled down her back. Were it not for her fear of losing her hair again, Constance would have quite happily worn it down for the rest of the day. With another heavy sigh she pulled her hair into a ponytail and began to pin it into a bun using a handful of hair grips, braiding and wrapping a loose section of hair around the base of the bun to disguise the amount of pins that she had used to keep her hair together. She had decided to wear one of her new dresses today; a long black and grey striped dress that was quite figure hugging. Teamed with a pair of boots and a pair of black tights, she was happy with how she looked. She folded her arms and with a rush of air she appeared in the staff room.

All three women jumped as she materialised by the staff room door. Patricia squeaked in shock, spilling her tea all over herself and Davina. Both women look flustered as Constance sat down, pouring herself a cup of nettle tea; she needed to brew some more Wide Awake Potion but for now nettle tea would suffice.

"Good morning, Constance." Amelia said softly as she took a biscuit from the plate in the middle of the table, "Did you sleep well?"

"Not particularly. I have quite a stiff neck and the matter was not helped by finding Davina in the bathroom cabinet."

Davina smiled shyly as all eyes turned to her.

"Yeah, Davina 'as a strange habit of appearing in strange places, don't ye?" Patricia explained as she turned to her friend, running a hand through her hair (which had been gelled and spiked up today), "But how did you just-"

"Constance was taught by the best, weren't you dear?" Amelia squeezed Constance's hand reassuringly.

She was not reassured by this, however. The best was not the word she would use to describe the woman who taught her how to materialise out of thin air, "Really, Amelia," she said, forcing a humoured tone, "There's no need to be so... kind."

Amelia looked at Constance with her twinkling blue eyes, "Now, Constance," she stated, changing the topic, "About your first years. They will be in the potion lab waiting for you after breakfast and assembly. You do remember the way to the potions lab, don't you?"

Constance furrowed her brow. Of course she knew where the potions laboratory was, she had spent most of her time in there with Amelia before the start of term, talking about how they could improve the way things were laid out. Despite her organisational skills, Millicent Monkshood apparently forgot to label her ingredients. That was obviously why there had been so much money spent on replacing the benches during her employment. Amelia had said they used to have to order a new bench every week because a student had put the wrong ingredient in her potion. That was all going to change with Constance. She had filed and labelled all of her ingredients and organised them alphabetically in the glass cabinet at the back of the classroom, to minimise the risk of the girls creating another explosion.

After breakfast (which ended up being cold grey porridge) Constance took her place on the platform at the front of the great hall. She sat beside Patricia today, who was wearing a rather demure black suit with a frilly blouse, and listened as Amelia told the students about various different events that would be going on in the school.

Once the students had finished droning the last note of the school song they silently filed to their classrooms. Constance materialised at the front of the classroom as her first years were finding their seats. Caitlyn Shepherd sat beside Isla Moonshine at the back of the classroom, Laura Snowdrop with Margaret Hay and Delia Willow with Julia Chestnut. The girls jumped at the sudden appearance of their form mistress and they fell silent.

"I'm sure you are all hoping that today you will be brewing potions," Constance began, looking at each of the girls individually, "Instead of brewing potions we are going to be studying the basic rules of potion making. It is important to know the do's and don'ts before you endeavour to use any form of magic. Delia Willow," Delia's ears pricked up as Constance placed a pile of small books on the bench in front of her, "You will be passing these copies of The Witch's Code out to your classmates. You will find the rules regarding potions towards the back of your books."

The girls were silent throughout the class, meek as lambs in Constance's opinion, apart from Caitlyn who was constantly whispering to Isla. Constance bit her tongue, fighting the urge to tell the girl to stop talking, remembering what Patricia had said about being too strict. Despite this, she had never seen a class of young teenagers be so well behaved and as they filed out of the classroom after the bell she called after them, "Great lesson today, girls."

Caitlyn turned around, her long red braid whipping her back as she did so. She smiled slightly at Constance and then she was gone, heading towards Patricia's jewellery making class.

Next it was time for Constance to teach the third years. They were a quiet group too, no doubt used to Miss Monkshood's strict methods. She had prepared to teach them how to brew an invisibility potion. The bell rang again, this time for break, and Constance made her way to the staff room for a cup of tea and perhaps one custard cream.

Amelia had her head in the paper, Patricia was using the back of a spoon to re-apply her hot pink lipstick and Davina was, yet again, dancing to another song. Davina was shaking a tambourine, swirling her shawls as she screeched about a welsh witch called Rhiannon. Were it not for her colleague ripping her vocal chords apart, the song was actually quite pleasant on Constance's ears. The singer had a husky voice, which Davina would have afterwards if she didn't stop shrieking.

Constance sat opposite Amelia who had already poured her a cup of tea.

"How did your first lessons go, dear?" Amelia asked, her kind eyes glistening.

Constance nodded as she sipped her tea, "I think it went really well. I took your advice, Patricia," she shuddered at the thought of this as Patricia turned to look at her, "I tried not to be too harsh on the girls."

"Well the first years seemed very nervous when I had them," Patricia explained, blotting her lips on a napkin, "It could just be first day blues, though."

The rest of the day went quickly; after break Constance had the third years again and then she had another form group lesson with her first years. After lunch (which was two hours long) she had the fourth years and then her final class was with the second years.

As she returned to the staff room after her final lesson she realised she felt quite tired. The staff room door was ajar as she approached it and she found Amelia, all on her own, with the newspaper in her hand.

"Is everything alright, Amelia?" Constance asked as she sat down at the table. Amelia looked up at her, her usually kind eyes were filled with a look of great despair. Obviously there was something very wrong, "What is it?"

"Constance, I want you to know that you are an excellent member of staff and I'm glad I chose you to take over from Millicent," This was it. Constance felt the bile rising inside of her, she knew she was going to be sacked. She could feel the words coming.

"Please, Amelia. If there's something I've done wrong-"

Amelia raised a hand, telling Constance to be quiet, "Oh my sweet girl, no! You don't need to change anything... You don't know?"

Constance furrowed her brow. Amelia moved to sit beside her and wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug.

"Sweet, sweet girl..." She whispered, rocking Constance who was very confused.

"What has happened, Amelia?" Constance asked in a low voice.

"Antonin Hardbroom is your father, isn't he?" Amelia asked, looking at the newspaper that she was still holding tightly in her hand.

Constance nodded, wondering what her father had to do with any of this. The last time she had spoken to her father was a week before she had graduated from Weirdsister College.

"Constance. I'm sorry, my dear," she said softly, placing a hand on Constance's shoulder, "He's died."


	8. Tearing Her Apart

"What?"

Amelia pursed her lips as she rubbed Constance's shoulder, "Your father was found dead in his home."

Constance inhaled deeply, feeling her skin getting warm as she tried to understand what Amelia was saying. Her father was dead? Her father was... dead...

"Do—Do you know what... killed him?" Constance stammered, her voice trembling as she was consumed by disbelief.

Amelia unfurled the newspaper and spread it out across the table. It fell open on the births and deaths page. Constance scanned the list of names until she found her father.

 _Antonin Hardbroom_

 _Believed to have passed away Mid-Late July due to alcohol poisoning._

 _A funerary service will be held 15_ _th_ _September 1980 at The Downs Crematorium, Brighton._

A hot rage filled Constance as she crumpled up the page, glaring at it as it curled and wrinkled in her hand. She had warned him about his drinking, she had told him to stop. If she had invited him to her graduation he may still be alive. She had only herself to blame for this. Constance could feel salty tears stinging the back of her eyes as she threw the newspaper off the table and pushed herself out of the chair, knocking it over in the process. Amelia went to grab her arm, to cool her temper, but in a heartbeat she had vanished up to her bedroom.

She slid down the back of the door, landing on her bottom with a soft thud as a sob ripped through her. She raised a shaking hand to wipe away her tears, rubbing her cheek on her sleeve. She curled her knees under chin, rocking herself as the sobs tore through her. She felt so useless.

"It's my fault," she cried as she wiped another tear away, "It's my fault."

Another rattling sob. If she had told him about her graduation, if she had stayed in touch with him he would have still been alive. All of this time she had been cursing him... She was a disappointment, she knew she was.

Constance took a deep steadying breath and pushed herself up to her feet again. She knew what she needed to do, what would make her feel better. She stepped out of her bedroom and towards the bathroom opposite her room, a much nicer bathroom than the one she had used earlier that morning for her bath. It had a much sturdier sink with a cupboard underneath for storing soaps and razors as well as a nice white cabinet for storing towels. Obviously, given the smell, Patricia had been in here. It smelt of her sickly sweet perfume which seemed to trail after her wherever she went. Checking the white cabinet for Davina, she locked the bathroom door and began to fill the bath. Constance pulled off her dress and took off her boots and tights, then her underwear. She took down her hair. It fell around her waist, clinging to her as she moved to grab a disposable razor from under the sink.

Constance stopped the tap from running and climbed into the bath. She could feel her heart racing. She removed the plastic sheath and felt the sharp metal blade against her fingertips. One cut... one drop of blood... it would all be alright.

"Constance!" A voice came from outside the bathroom door. It was Amelia, "Constance, are you alright?"

Constance remained silent, still looking at the blue razor in her hand as Amelia rattled the locked door handle. It was no use. Constance wanted to stain the water red with with her blood, she wanted her pain to go away.

Amelia's voice was accompanied by a loud knocking now, "Constance! Davina told me you came in here! Please say you're alright!"

Again, she stayed silent. She shut her eyes, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks again as the knocking on the door became louder, more forceful. Amelia was trying to force the lock open. To Constance it was meaningless noise. The voice behind the door meant nothing. She lowered the blade to her leg, feeling the cold metal touch her wet skin for the first time in what felt like forever. One quick motion and everything would be okay again...

The pounding door burst open as Amelia rushed across the bathroom. Constance dropped the razor into the water.

"What were you going to do?" Amelia raged, looking at Constance's now empty hand, "Tell me! What were you going to do with that razor?!"

Constance's tears told Amelia what she needed to know and as the young girl sobbed, she wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders.

"It's all my fault, Amelia." Constance whispered, shuddering at the cold air, "I-it's all m-m-my fault!"

Amelia pulled away from Constance and looked deeply into her dark eyes, cupping her red, puffy face in her hands, "Listen to me, Constance Hardbroom. Your father's death was in no way your fault-"

"You don't understand-"

"Oh but I do." Amelia snapped, still holding onto Constance, "When Nicholas died I blamed myself. I told myself that I was to blame. I said that if I had been with him that he might still be alive. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but life isn't like that. You can't be with people all the hours of the day. You can't stop the inevitable from happening and-"

"My father-"

"Your father's death was not your fault."

Constance closed her eyes, shaking her head. However much Amelia argued, Constance blamed herself for her father's death, the same way she had always been told her mother's death was her fault. She killed her father the same way she had killed her mother; Constance ripped her mother apart to come into this world and with her ignorance and hatred she tore her father apart as well. She sobbed into her bare chest, hearing Amelia going over to the cabinet. When she looked up, she was being offered a hand out of the bath and as she stepped out of the cooling water a white towel was wrapped gently around her. With a protective hand on her back, Constance was led back to her bedroom by Amelia who moved her to sit down on the bed. Amelia wrapped her arms tightly around her. Constance held back her tears but as Amelia rubbed her back she couldn't stop them from streaming down her cheeks. She sobbed painfully into Amelia's shoulder as she was rocked, almost like a baby.

"Are you going to be alright on your own tonight?" Amelia asked finally, as Constance's breathing returned to normal.

Constance nodded, wiping her swollen eyes. In truth, Constance didn't know if she _would_ be okay on her own. Her head was swimming with images of her father, clouded with words of disappointment and hatred. With one final hug, Amelia kissed Constance on the forehead before she left the room.

Amelia faltered before she left, lingering by the door to make sure that Constance was indeed going to settle. She was unseen by the young witch, who was so consumed by her grief, a feeling Amelia was only too familiar with. The day her husband had died had been the same. When Millicent rushed in to tell her about Nicholas' death she wept until her throat was raw and she could cry no more tears. She had been strong enough to deal with it on her own, but Constance was young and already in too much pain to cope by herself. Amelia was faced with a young girl who had no relationship with her father, dealing with the years of anger and isolation that had been forced upon her. With one final look at Constance, Amelia closed the bedroom door with a sinking heart and returned to her own room.

Constance waited for the door to click shut before she let the tears fall again. She laid back on her bed and stared up at the cold stone ceiling. Her breathing was ragged, her sobs silent as she rolled over, facing the slit window. She closed her eyes, praying for the sweet embrace of sleep to take her away from her living hell. Constance was pleading with whoever would listen. She was pleading with herself, with a God, with anyone, "Please take this away," she whispered, her eyes still closed as tears continued to drench her pillow, "Please let me be free of this."

"What's the matter, Constance?"

Her eyes flashed open at the sound of the voice. She couldn't move. She was lying on her back again, staring up at the ceiling as familiar footfalls circled her.

"My little girl has always let me down, hasn't she?" Her father slurred, his eyes bloodshot as he watched his daughter, "You murdered her... I never wanted you in the first place but you ripped her apart to get here."

Constance felt a wave of anger wash over her as her father spat venom. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak. She was frozen.

"I was landed with you, wasn't I?!" He boomed, beating his chest as he stood over her, "I was left to raise a snotty little brat on my own. I gave you everything and it still wasn't enough; a good education, a roof over your head. But you wanted to get away, didn't you? You wanted rid of me too," he towered over her, his face wax-like and hollow in the darkness, "Well you got your wish. Are you happy now?"

Constance shrieked, rising from her pillow with such a force that her hair went flying. Her forehead was sticky with sweat, her mouth dry as she tried to catch her breath. She grasped for the quilt around her, holding it tight against her chest as she looked around the room. Had it been a dream? It felt real enough to her. As she climbed out of bed to get changed into her pyjamas, she checked the time. It was four o'clock. She folded up the towel and then climbed back into bed, praying that she would have a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Constance walked quietly down to the staff room hoping that she wouldn't be noticed by her fellow teachers. The door of the room was ajar. She pushed it lightly and saw Amelia drinking her cup of tea and Patricia reading a glossy magazine. Davina was nowhere to be seen.

"How are you feeling, Constance?" Amelia asked as Constance tried to creep over to the kettle unnoticed. Constance turned to look at Amelia, her eyes swollen and bloodshot from crying, dark circles under her eyes from a restless night's sleep. She forced a smile, nodding meekly as she sat down opposite Amelia. If she opened up about how she felt the tears would start to fall again and she couldn't cope with the eyes of all of the students and the staff seeing her at her weakest. Patricia smiled reassuringly at the younger witch as she sipped on her orange juice.

"Sorry about your dad, flower. If you need anything-"

"Thank you, Patricia. I should be fine." Constance took a shaking breath as she turned to Amelia, "And thank you Amelia for being so kind to me last night."

Amelia's expression remained unreadable as her usually twinkling blue eyes were dim. Evidently she hadn't slept too well either, "You will be alright, won't you?"

Constance nodded, "Yes. I'll be okay to teach my classes today. But I would like to have time off for the funeral."

"Ah, yes. About that, Constance. I-" Amelia started but she was interrupted by a peculiar noise coming from the stationary cupboard.

With a rustle of paper and a strange squeaking noise, Davina erupted from the cupboard in a shower of loose exam sheets and what appeared to be little yellow rubber ducks, "I'll cover your classes for you, Constance. I'm quite efficient when it comes to potion brewing. I brew all of my own medicines and they always work wonders."

The three women around the table stared at Davina who was holding one of the rubber ducks that had fallen out of the cupboard in her hand. She sat beside Patricia who was biting her tongue, trying not to laugh out loud.

"I'm sure Constance will appreciate your support, Davina," Said Amelia as she watched the chanting mistress be dusted down by Patricia.

Constance closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face at the thought of Davina teaching her classes. The scatterbrained chanting mistress struggled sticking to her own lesson plans so how would she manage to stick to Constance's? She rose from her seat, the sight of breakfast as it arrived (boiled egg and soldiers) proving too much for her. She excused herself from the table and left to go to the potion lab.

Amelia turned to Davina and Patricia who were going over an article in the magazine.

"She was crying in her sleep," Amelia stated as she took a sip of tea. Patricia looked up from her magazine, "I sat by her bedroom door during the night and I could hear her sobbing."

Patricia sighed deeply, "Poor thing. And ye say she had no relationship wi' 'er dad?" Amelia shook her head, "She must feel guilty about it, then."

"I was never close to my father," Commented Davina as she fiddled with her rubber duck, "He couldn't stand the smell of the goose fat my mother used to use on us to keep us warm during the winter."

Patricia rolled her heavily mascaraed eyes and returned to her magazine.

"I'm worried about her, Patricia. She's covered in scars and flinches at any sudden movements. It's as though the poor girl has been beaten up." Amelia commented as she drained her mug. Hearing no response from Patricia, who was so absorbed in her magazine article, she decided to go to her office to file some paperwork. Constance, who had brewed up some Wide Awake Potion, was waiting outside of the office door for her when she arrived. She looked deathly pale, her eyes dark as she looked up at the headmistress like a scared school girl.

"Amelia, I need to ask a favour," she said quietly as Amelia unlocked the office door and beckoned her in, "I would like it if you didn't tell Patricia and Davina about what happened last night."

Amelia frowned as she sat down in the armchair by the dwindling fire. Constance did the same, sitting opposite the headmistress. Amelia had every right to sack her on the spot for what happened last night, "It was unprofessional," Constance continued, her voice cracking, "And if it was one of the girls who found me like that rather than you..."

Raising a hand to silence her, Amelia said, "People handle emotional pain in different ways. Some people turn to alcohol, some people talk through it with their friends or a psychologist, some people inflict the emotional pain onto themselves so that they feel in control, whether it's by self harming or by something else. That's what you're doing isn't it? And judging by those scars on your leg it isn't the first time, either."

Constance nodded, her eyes welling with tears again as her hand went to her leg. She could feel the blade on her leg, pressing into her skin. Every single drop of blood that had ever escaped from the wounds, every moment when the scars burned, she could feel it all now.

"I don't expect you to tell me what's happened to make you want to self harm but what I do expect is for you to tell me if you ever feel these urges coming back. I don't want you to feel that you have to go through this by yourself. It's hard enough given what you nearly did last night in the bath tub," Amelia took a shuddering breath as she continued, "And I have every intention of coming with you to your father's funeral. You are not going through that by yourself," Amelia reached out to take Constance's hand reassuringly in her own, giving it a light squeeze as she smiled gently at her, "I'm here for you if you need me."

"Thank you," Constance whispered, looking at their joined hands and then up at Amelia whose eyes were twinkling again, a protective smile at the corners of her lips. This kind, wonderful woman had given her everything she needed; a fresh start, a chance to build a new family with the people around her. In that moment Constance realised that all was not lost after all. After years of fighting, after years of being alone she finally had the one thing she had truly needed; she finally had a friend.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for all of the support that I've received so far regarding this story and a special big thank you to DreamsInLilac and plebs for both being so supportive and for leaving such wonderful reviews. I hope you enjoyed this update.**


	9. Chaos At Cackles

The next twelve days came around quickly with Amelia having frequent meetings with Constance, checking to make sure that she was still alright. It was soon the fourteenth of September and on that evening, a mild and calm night, Constance and Amelia were sat in the staff room discussing the events of the next day. Davina was sat with them too, listening in, hoping to get some tips on how best to look after the potions lab in Constance's absence.

"...Do we know what time the service is?" Amelia asked as she sipped her hot chocolate. She dipped a bourbon into her drink but sadly left it in too long as it began to crumble. She tried to salvage it but it ended up going all over her new dusty pink cardigan.

"I contacted the funeral director this morning and they said it was at noon," Constance stated, matter-of-factly as she watched Amelia rubbing the moist remains of her biscuit into her cardigan.

Despite her immediate reaction to her father's death, the last fortnight had been fairly calm. Constance had been crying quite a lot, Caitlyn Shepherd had pointed her puffy red eyes out to her in the middle of the first year form lesson, but she had remained reasonably level-headed and hadn't suffered from anymore anxiety attacks.

Davina piped up, "What would you like me to do with your classes, Constance?" She asked in her wavering voice, "Would you like me to show them some of my medicinal brews?"

Constance rolled her eyes, sighing deeply, "No Davina. I don't want you confusing them with your, as you call them, _medicinal brews_. I want you to stick to the syllabus and the lessons I have planned out for you."

Davina bowed her head submissively as she sipped her own drink; a foul smelling pale liquid that smelled almost like sour milk.

"What is that, Davina?" Amelia grimaced as she caught a whiff of the putrid drink.

Davina smiled, "Oh this? This is fermented yak's milk. It's from the hills of Inner Mongolia, brewed by Liao Chao Xing himself. He's a Mongolian Undertone Chanting master. Patricia ordered it especially for me. Apparently it's meant to help with chanting."

"And we all know you need help with that," Constance muttered under her breath so only she and Amelia could hear it. Amelia snorted into her hot chocolate, chuckling as she regained her composure.

As she took a shuddering breath, Amelia cleared her throat as she stopped laughing, "I guess we should really get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us, Constance."

Constance looked at Amelia, "Yes, headmistress."

They bid Davina good night and made their way up to the teacher's wing. As they walked through the third year corridor, Amelia turned to Constance and said in a soft voice, "How are you? Really?"

Constance narrowed her eyes, saying shortly,"I'm fine, Amelia."

"And are you sleeping?"

Her mind wandered to the Wide Awake Potion she had been drinking since the day she had learned of her father's death. She knew it was addictive, oh she was very aware of that, but Constance couldn't allow Amelia to worry, "Of course I am."

With a frown, Amelia began to walk up the spiralling staircase leading to the teachers wing. Constance followed, saying good night to Amelia as she went into her own bedroom, closing the door behind her.

On her bedside table there was a dark blue bottle of Wide Awake Potion. Constance unscrewed the cap and took a small sip, feeling the bitter taste of the potion warming her chest. The Wide Awake Potion was actually a fairly easy potion to make; it was made from mixing stinging nettles, ginseng, feverfew and yarrow. A simple brew, reflected Constance as she resealed the bottle and went over to her desk to mark her first years' work. She couldn't think of a more logical way to spend a sleepless night.

After breakfast the next morning Davina was waiting in the potions lab. She had borrowed Patricia's health magazine and was busy reading an article about "Make Your Own Soap". Constance rolled her eyes, wondering why on Earth the dizzy chanting mistress was sat at her desk, as she threw her bag under it and greeted her class. She zapped their essays back onto their benches. Delia Willow smiled at Constance as she looked at the grade she had been given. She had, of course, received an A for her wonderful study of the uses of modern medicine in traditional witchcraft. Delia was such a promising student and so well presented.

"Thank you, Miss," Delia smiled as she turned to look at Caitlyn, "What did you get, Caitlyn Shepherd?"

"None of your business, Delia. Buzz off!" Caitlyn snapped as she held her work to her chest. She had earned a D on her essay. Her spelling was poor, her knowledge was non-existent. Were it not for her detailed diagrams of a classroom cauldron, Caitlyn Shepherd would have received an F.

Just as Constance was about to say something to the insolent Caitlyn, Davina stood up and cleared her throat, "Good morning girls. I suppose you're wondering why I am here in your potions class this morning..."

"I know I am." Constance mumbled, folding her arms over her chest as she watched the petite Davina walk around the front of the classroom.

Davina didn't appear to hear her as she went on, "...Well today I am going to be helping to cover Miss Hardbroom."

"Not until lunchtime, Miss Bat. Perhaps you can attend to your own class until then."

Stopping in her tracks, the chanting mistress appeared to almost round on Constance, "I am perfectly capable of taking your classes until you return from your _personal errand._ " She said the last two words in a childish voice.

Constance felt a rage boiling inside of her such as she had never felt before. Never had she felt this angry, even during Broomhead's beatings and there had been many of those, "You dare speak about my father's funeral in that tone again and I swear, Davina Bat-" Constance whispered in a low and deadly voice.

"Is everything alright, ladies?" Amelia's voice came from the doorway. She saw the confrontational stance of her potions teacher and her chanting mistress and sped into the room, standing between the two women, "Perhaps we should dismiss the class so you two can cool off."

"But Miss Cackle-" Constance argued but Amelia shot her a look, warning her to be quiet. Her students looked thrilled with the news that they would be having a free lesson and as they raced out of the classroom Amelia sat Constance and Davina down next to each other at the front bench. Amelia sat behind Constance's desk. Her fingers were pressed together under her chin and she looked down at Davina's borrowed magazine that had been left carelessly on top of a pile of unmarked mock exams.

"This behaviour in front of the students is unprofessional. I cannot allow it to continue. Constance," Her stomach lurched as Amelia turned to look at her, "You will take the rest of the day for yourself and Davina will cover all of your classes. You are in no fit state to be in charge of your classes, not today."

Davina had a smug expression on her face when she looked at Constance. Constance, on the other hand, was furious, "Amelia, there is the question of educational standards. Davina hasn't-"

"I know how you feel about the situation, Constance, but I think today can be an exception. Go upstairs to your room and get yourself prepared for the funeral. You have," Amelia checked her watch, "Two and a half hours to get yourself ready which I think will be more than long enough. As for you, Davina," Davina's smug expression fell away from her face as the headmistress turned to her, "I am disappointed at your lack of courtesy towards Constance's situation. I think you should apologise."

It was Constance's turn to look smug as Davina mumbled an apology. When Amelia was satisfied that the situation had been defused both women were dismissed from the classroom; Davina went to the staff room, Constance went to her bedroom to get ready for that afternoon.

She had picked out a black skirt suit to wear to the service, she didn't plan on going to the wake. There would be too many estranged family members there that she would have to make small talk with and that was always torturous for her. Constance wasn't the most talkative person to start with so to have to speak to people she only saw at birthdays and at Christmas, if that, would be incredibly awkward for her.

Constance stood in front of her mirror and took down her hair from the high bun. The bun uncoiled itself and fell into a ponytail. Usually after a full day in the bun her hair became one thick, single ringlet of hair but it had only been up for two hours. She brushed the ponytail before she untied it and then brushed it again when her hair was loose. It had gone wild and bushy. Constance directed her casting fingers at it and with a flash of green light it became sleek and smooth once again. She sighed deeply as she undressed, changing into her outfit. It was all a matter of waiting after that.

She sat down on her bed, kicked off her shoes and grabbed a book from the drawer of her bedside table. It was _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. With a slight smile she turned to the back page, looking at the tiny picture of her mother, Sylvia. Sylvia looked like such a happy woman with thick, wavy dark hair that hugged the edge of the photography and dark, almond eyes that were squinting against the sun. She was a very beautiful woman. It was no surprise that her father loved her so much.

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door and Constance looked up, the photograph of her mother still in her hand. It was Amelia.

"Time to go, Constance," She said as she entered the room. Amelia was wearing a black woollen dress with a pair of black tights and black high heels. She gave her a smile, looking at her hair which was shining like a sheet of dark silk as it tumbled down her back. Constance slipped her own shoes back on and followed Amelia into the courtyard. They gathered their brooms from the broom shed and took flight, heading south towards the crematorium.

X

Davina's head popped around the stationary cupboard door, accompanied by Lawrence, her rubber duck. She gave him a soft squeeze and he let out a high pitched squeaking noise. Patricia was nowhere to be seen in the staff room and Amelia and Constance had gone to the funeral.

"That means I must be in charge. What do you think?" Davina turned to Lawrence who she was resting on the palm of her hand.

She squeezed him again and he squeaked. Davina decided it was safe to leave the cupboard and pushing the door, which creaked, she walked into the staff room. She placed Lawrence on the table in front of Constance's chair and headed to the potions lab to conduct the first of her cover lessons. Davina wondered, as she entered the stuffy classroom, whether Amelia had left her magazine on Constance's desk...

X

Constance and Amelia descended towards the long strip of grass at the side of the crematorium. There was a cloud of black suits and dresses outside the doors of the gloomy building; with its brown brickwork and dark archways and alcoves. As their feet made contact with the Earth once again and they dismounted their broomsticks, Amelia wrapped one arm around Constance, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Are you sure you want to do this, dear?"

Constance nodded, shrinking down her broomstick so she could fit it into the pocket of her black blazer. Amelia smiled, doing the same, and together they walked towards the crowd of Antonin Hardbroom's family and friends.

The first to greet them was-

"Aunt Gillian." It was her father's sister; a tall, thin lady with masses of curly red hair and translucent skin. Her Aunt Gillian had always been kind to her but because she lived on the other side of the country with her own family she had only ever met her a handful of times.

Gillian smiled at her. She was wearing an elaborate black dress with ruffles and frills and a black pashmina around her shoulders, "My, Constance," She said in her high voice, "How you've grown. The last time I saw you you were only this tall," she put her hand to her hip, "Now look at you. You're the double of Sylvia. Tony would have been so proud of you."

"I'm not sure if that's true, Aunt Gil-"

"Don't be silly, of course he'd be proud of you. And, who's this?" Gillian looked at Amelia and gave her a welcoming grin, "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Constance looked at Amelia who had a hopeful expression on her face, "This is Amelia Cackle. She's the headmistress of the school I work at."

"Cackle's Academy. And it's lovely to meet you, Gillian, despite the circumstances," Amelia said kindly as she greeted Gillian.

"Indeed. Did you know Antonin well?" Gillian asked as she let go of Amelia's hand.

Amelia shook her head, "No, no. Only what I've been told by Constance. I've just come to give her a bit of moral support."

Constance looked around the crowd of people that had arrived. She never realised how many people her father actually knew – then again, she was never around to see these people anyway. She was either at school, in the garden or in her bedroom doing her homework.

Finally, the gates of the crematorium opened and a black hearse began to climb up the steep path. Constance caught sight of the flowers; purple and white ones spelling out the words "Father" and then the coffin itself, oak by the look of it and with brass handles. It looked so tiny. The car was led by a thickset man wearing a bowler hat and a swallowtail coat. He bowed his head to the people outside the crematorium and then to the funeral car before he opened the back door of the hearse.

She took a deep, shuddering breath then turned to look at Amelia who was rubbing her back. They waited until the men in attendance had finished getting the coffin out of the car and then followed them into the chapel where a woman was standing in a white surplice behind a podium, looking out into the crowd. Constance and Amelia sat towards the back of the chapel, looking towards the front of the stone hall.

The interior of the chapel was just as gloomy as the outside, with misty windows in the roof and black curtains everywhere. There was no music being played like a traditional funeral. Her father was never the type for music or hymns, not after her mother had died.

The woman in the surplice cleared her throat, "We are gathered here today to commemorate the life of Antonin Hardbroom. I'm not going to pretend that I knew him but thanks to some of his lovely family I feel that..."

Constance rolled her eyes as the vicar gave her speech about her father, saying what a wonderful and supportive man he was. She looked to Amelia who was holding her hand. When their eyes met, Amelia rubbed Constance's hand reassuringly, "Are you alright?" She whispered.

Constance nodded.

"...Now I believe his daughter is here with us?" The vicar called, looking amongst the crowd, "Constance, do you want to come up and say a few words?"

Her Aunt Gillian smiled at her from the front row. This was all her! Constance clenched her jaw as she stood up, looking towards the front of the chapel, and then at her Aunt Gillian who mouthed, "Go on!"

She really was cornered, without a choice. She walked up to the podium, her heels clicking against the stone floor as she greeted the vicar, a petite lady with grey hair, and then looked out amongst the faces of her family. She cleared her throat and then looked at the microphone on the high wooden table before her.

"Firstly," the microphone squeaked slightly, "I'd like to say thank you all for coming. I know my father and I never saw eye to eye but I know he would have appreciated you all being here to send him off," she cleared her throat again and then continued. She found her eyes wandering to the closed doorway at the back of the hall and used this as her focal point, to stop her from losing her nerve, "Despite the fact that we weren't on the best terms my father was a good man. He loved my mother very much, more than he had ever loved anything else and I know that..." She trailed off as the door opened. A woman entered and paced down towards the front row, her heels clicking loudly against the cold floor.

"I'm sorry, I... I can't do this." Constance's voice cracked as she spoke into the microphone and she marched out of the chapel through the side doors. Amelia raced after her into the gazebo beyond the double doors where the flowers had been placed for her father and for the people before him. Mum. Auntie. Grandad.

"Constance!" Amelia called, looking at the young witch as she crumbled. Her face was scarlet, her forehead wrinkled, "Constance, what's wrong?"

"She's here!" Constance was gasping, trying to calm down, "Amelia, I can't do it. I can't sit in the same room with her. I can't do it, I just can't!"

Amelia walked closer, still keeping a precautionary distance from her, "Who's here, Constance?"

Constance closed her eyes, remembering the cold twisted mouth smirking at her as she writhed in pain. Battered, bruised and broken, she had laid there beneath that woman and prayed for what had been granted to her father, "Mistress Hecketty Broomhead."

X

"Now just a bit more pondslime in that mixture, Julia. Yes, that's it." Davina said as she watched the first years make the potion from Patricia's health magazine. Lilac soap, Davina's favourite. The girls' attempts were all looking very promising as Patricia herself walked into the classroom wearing a turquoise boiler suit with hot pink lipstick and thick black eyeliner.

"What are we up to, Davina?" She asked, moving to stand beside her friend. She caught sight of the article open on the desk, "Oh this? Nice one, the girls'll like the change."

"Miss Bat, is the potion meant to be yellow?" Margaret Hay called over to the front of the classroom as she stirred the mixture in her cauldron.

Davina and Patricia walked over, looking at the bubbling, butter yellow mixture. Patricia furrowed her brow but Davina seemed content with how the work was coming along.

"Yes, dear. This is where you add in the lilacs and then it turns, well, lilac," Davina laughed, watching the petite blonde girl as she returned to her stirring.

X

"Just breathe, Constance," Amelia said calmly, holding Constance by the shoulders as she took deep breaths; in through the nose, out through the mouth, she kept telling herself, "We'll stay out here for the rest of the service, say goodbye to your family and then go back to the academy."

In her anxiety, Constance could barely say a word so she nodded instead, showing her agreement. It didn't take long for the service to finish and her Aunt Gillian was first to see if she was alright. She pulled her into a suffocating hug.

"You sweet thing. That must have been so difficult. The nice lady who came in during your speech finished it off for you. That was kind of her, wasn't it?"

Constance's eyes widened as Gillian pulled away, "What?" She choked.

"You know, Missus Helly Broomhandle, whatever she was called. Anyway, she finished your speech for you. Are you sure you're alright?" Gillian cocked her head to one side, staring at the deathly pale Constance who could feel the bile rising inside of her, the years of repressed rage at that vile woman, and people were calling her kind?

"She'll be fine. Just a bit in shock, I suppose, She has been through far worse." Came an icy voice from behind her. Constance inhaled sharply, her back straightening as she closed her eyes, "Constance, dear. How are you? I expect you're rather surprised to see me."

She cleared her throat, "Yes, Mistress Broomhead."

"But you are well?"

"Yes, Mistress Broomhead."

Amelia's eyes widened as she heard the submissive words come from Constance's lips and the long, bony hand fell onto her shoulder. Constance flinched at the contact.

"Good," Mistress Broomhead simpered as she pressed her lips to Constance's ear, whispering, "But you couldn't even stay during your own father's funeral. Such a disappointment, Constance."

Constance jumped at the acid tongue, gasping slightly as Mistress Bromhead's nails pressed into her shoulders. Then they retracted. She looked at Amelia who had pursed her lips, furrowing her brow.

"Perhaps we should get you back to the academy, Const-" Amelia started but Gillian forstalled her.

"Nonsense, you'll do no such thing!" Gillian announced, smiling at Constance who felt as though she was about to pass out. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, "Why don't you three come back to Antonin's for a drink and you and Helly-"

"Hecketty," corrected Mistress Broomhead in an irritated voice.

"-Can have a catch up?"

Constance turned to Amelia, her face wrinkled as though she was about to break down into tears, and then back to Gillian.

"Oh no, no. I have to get back to the university. I merely came to show my respects to a dear friend," Mistress Broomhead stated, refusing the invitation, "Constance needs to have her family around her."

And with that, Hecketty Broomhead vanished with a soft pop back to Weirdsister College.

"Would you two like to come back for a cup of tea at the house? I'm staying there until all of the financial things are sorted out." Gillian pulled out a tiny broomstick from a pocket in her dress and returned it to its original size. Amelia smiled, patting Constance on the shoulder.

"I don't see why not. It might be a good idea to calm your nerves before we fly back to the academy, do you think?" Suggested Amelia as she too pulled out a tiny broomstick from the pocket of her woollen dress.

Constance nodded, returning her own broom to its true size. With a sharp tap, she said "Up and away," to her broomstick and took flight over the crematorium and towards her childhood home with her Aunt and her friend.

X

Back at Cackle's, Davina was surrounded by giggling first years. They were still brewing their soap but they were ignoring her demands for them to calm down and concentrate on their work. Patricia was completely distracted, picking at her nails as she walked towards the door."Looks like you're in control, I'll leave you to it," She smiled, putting her hand into one of her deep pockets.

Davina rushed after her as she left for the potion lab door. Patricia turned, feeling the petite hand on her back, "Don't leave me alone with them, Trish. What if something happens, what if-"

"You're in control of the sitchi, don't worry so much."

"What's a _sitchi_?"

"The situation, you div. Just keep an eye on what they're doing and ye'll be alright." Patricia's chuckle echoed down the corridor as she closed the door behind her, leaving Davina alone.

"What's a div?" Davina whispered, turning to look at the chaotic classroom.

She was panicking, maybe suffering from her palpitations again. Goodness knows she got them terribly. She peered over Caitlyn Shepherd's shoulder.

"No, no, no! That doesn't look right at all." Davina cried, staring into the cauldron of deep violet potion. Caitlyn Shepherd looked up at the tiny chanting mistress.

"But Miss Bat-"

"Don't talk back to me, Caitlyn!" Davina snapped, her hair beginning to ping out of place as her face grew redder.

"Miss Hardbroom will be back any minute, she won't be happy about this." Delia Willow announced.

X

The three witches landed on the overgrown grass verge leading up towards Constance's childhood home. They climbed the hill, Gillian pulling the keys out of another pocket in her dress as her feet made contact with the pavement and the house came into view.

Constance had forgotten just how tiny the house was as they walked along the uneven path and passed the other houses in the street. Finally they reached number eighteen; a simple looking terraced house with a patch of grass outside and a selection of different pot plants placed beneath the long front window. The front door was a dark shade of blue and Constance remembered, as Gillian placed her key in the lock, that the lock nearly always stuck.

"You have to give the handle a shake," muttered Constance as Gillian fought to get the lock to turn. She nodded and as she shook the handle, the narrow key turned in the lock. With a soft click the door opened and they entered the house, carrying their broomsticks with them.

The front door led straight into the living room where there were three seats; two narrow sofas and one chair, Constance's chair, in the far corner. There were piles upon piles of newspapers stacked on the floor and on the sofa beneath the window.

"Sorry about the mess, I'm just clearing out some of the junk from the attic." Stated Gillian as she pushed one of the piles of newspapers out of the way to make room for herself. The pile toppled over and the loose sheets were scattered across the floor.

Constance remained standing, looking at the mess her old home had been left in. She walked into the dining room which was a very small room with an archway leading into the cramped galley kitchen. The sideboard still had all of the dusty pictures on that Constance remembered from her childhood - pictures of her Mother and Father together before she came along and tore them apart, pictures of her Grandparents and one of her mother all on her own, the same as the one she kept in her book. She had the same beautiful smile as she looked off into the middle-distance, squinting at the sun as the wind wound through her dark, wavy hair. Obviously this picture had been picked up most recently. Her father adored it, he always said to her that Sylvia looked the most beautiful in that picture. She had been pregnant when the picture had been taken, pregnant with Constance – an expectant Mother with the whole world ahead of her and a heart full of hope. If only she had known...

Gillian came into the room and went into the kitchen. Constance heard her flick on the kettle, which was on one side of the room, and then she went into one of the high cupboard to get some cups, which was on the other side of the room.

She wanted to have a look at her old bedroom, to see if there was anything of hers that she could take back to the academy with her. She walked up the steep, creaking stairs and onto the narrow landing. There were three rooms upstairs; the bathroom and the master bedroom which both sat on either end of the landing, and then Constance's old room which was next to the staircase.

The room was just as she had remembered it with a large bed dominating most of the square room. Her potion table was just next to the door, she did all of her homework at this table during her school years. The wardrobe, which had no doors, was empty of clothes but had a white laundry basket inside filled with piles of yellowed paper. She walked over to it and pulled out one of the sheets of paper at the top; it was a letter with elegant, curled handwriting Constance was only too familiar with.

 _4_ _th_ _April 1980_

 _Dear Antonin,_

 _I am glad to hear you are keeping well and not under too much stress at home by yourself. How is the job search going? I believe there is a job at a bookshop near you that specialises in work about witchcraft. That may be of interest to you._

 _Life at the university is going as expected at this time of year; revision, mock exams, etc. It is all very stressful for the students but I'm sure with enough practice and preparation they can get the results they require in July._

 _Constance is doing very well, thank you for asking. I will tell her you've been asking after her. She just doesn't appear to want to see you or speak to you. I've asked her to send you a letter, even offered her time off to come and visit you down in Brighton but she shows no interest in doing so. I believe she said that she hated you for what you've done and that you're "a deadbeat drunk"._

 _As I said – I did have words with her about this._

 _Despite your daughter's attitude she is a very good student; top marks in all of her exams, extracurricular classes. She is exceeding in potions, but that will come as no surprise to you I'm sure._

 _I hope you are well, write soon._

 _Yours faithfully,_

 _Mistress Hecketty Broomhead._

Constance took a moment to re-read the letter, combing over sections again and again. Mistress Broomhead had never spoken to Constance about her father wanting to see her. She had always said that he thought she was a disappointment and Constance had believed her...

Footsteps were creaking up the staircase as Amelia came into her bedroom. Constance sat down on her bed, still looking at the fading ink and the yellowing page.

"What's this?" Amelia asked as she too joined her on the bed. The bed creaked ominously as the mattress sank. She took the letter from her and squinted, trying to read the writing, "Goodness me, so your father was on good terms with that foul woman?" Amelia passed the letter back to Constance as she continued, "What did she do to you, Constance? When you were younger, what did she do?"

Constance shook her head, gulping as she looked back down at the letter again, "She haunted me when I was at college and she's still haunting me now. I'm never going to get away from her."

"Well," Amelia said softly, wrapping an arm around Constance's shoulder, "Maybe now is a time to try to get away from her. She's out of your life for good now. You're never going to see her ever again. Today was just a blip. I'm so proud of how far you've come over the last two weeks. When I found you in that bathroom you looked so tiny and so scared. Imagine how far you can come if you just let me in, Constance."

Constance smiled, resting her head on Amelia's shoulder. The headmistress combed her hair away from her face.

"I _am_ here for you," Amelia whispered. For a moment they stayed as they were; Constance resting her head on Amelia's shoulder, Amelia looking down at her. Finally she continued in a louder voice, "Anyway, we better get back to the academy. Davina's in charge and I dread to think that we've left her for too long."

Constance chuckled softly as Amelia rose to her feet, making the mattress spring back into place with a sudden ping. She followed her downstairs, saying goodbye to Gillian who was eating a cream slice with her tea, and then they took flight once again, heading back to Cackle's Academy.

The flight back wasn't nearly as long as the flight away from the school and soon they were flying over Old Noxby and Overblow Castle was a looming fortress in the distance. Constance commanded her broom to descend as she approached the school, as did Amelia, and they landed in the cobblestone courtyard to find...

"Patricia Gimlet, what are you doing?!" Amelia barked as she dismounted her broomstick. She rushed over to the jewellery design teacher and snatched the cigarette from her pink lips.

Patricia's hands were still in the same position, as though the cigarette was still in between her fingers. She coughed, a thick white cloud of smoke escaping her lungs as she moved her hands away from her mouth. It was hard to tell if the woman was blushing in embarrassment or whether it was just her makeup, "I... well... They were confiscated. I was just gettin' rid of them."

"We have bins for that, Patricia." Constance commented wearily as she climbed from her broomstick, her hair falling over her chest, "Pass me the packet and I'll dispose of them my-"

There was a blood curdling scream from within the school and both Constance and Amelia looked at each other. They dropped their broomsticks, Amelia dropped Patricia's still lit cigarette (which she immediately returned to smoking when their backs were turned) and they rushed into the entrance hall.

The place looked like a bomb had hit it with toilet paper wrapped around the banisters and food and a strange dark purple substance all over the walls. Above their heads it sounded like there was a stampede in the library – the girls had gone wild!

"You find Davina, I'll sort out the girls." Amelia called as she rushed up the wooden staircase.

Constance knew exactly where Davina would be. She folded her arms and with a pull behind her navel she appeared in the potions lab. The classroom was coated in the same strange purple liquid that was covering the rest of the school. The first years had disappeared but there was a strange vibrating noise coming from beneath Constance's desk. She leant down, craning her neck to see what it was.

Davina was chirping like a deranged bird, rocking herself backwards and forwards in the foetal position beneath the desk. The woman became more and more strange to Constance by the day.

"What _are_ you doing?" Constance asked irritably as Davina finally looked up at her.

The chanting teacher tried to stand up but banged her head on the desk. Constance rolled her eyes as she emerged from beneath the desk and looked around the room, "It was Caitlyn Shepherd's potion, Constance. It just exploded."

"And what kind of potion was it?" Constance raised an eyebrow as she saw a potion splattered magazine on her desk, "Or need I ask? I said stick to the lesson plan I'd drawn up for you and you go ahead and try and make magic soap when I expressly forbade you not to. This is a complete disregard-"

"I have been teaching far longer than you have, Constance Hardbroom, I will not be told how to do my job by a twelve-year-old who's barely out of university."

"Twenty one, actually, but that's beside the point..." She heard a rumbling coming from one of the cauldrons. With a squelching noise the potion erupted from the cauldron, covering both Davina and Constance in the foul smelling purple potion, "Oh for goodness sake!" She pointed her casting fingers in the direction of the cauldron which stopped rumbling and splattering out potion like a volcano. Then she mumbled a spell under her breath and with a flash of bright light the classroom was as good as new, as were Davina and Constance.

"I'm going to see how Amelia is doing settling the girls," Constance explained as she folded her arms again, materialising in the library.

The girls were still running riot, throwing books and left over sandwiches at one another. Amelia was trying, and failing, to settle them. Constance saw two of her first years, Delia and Caitlyn, hurling stationary at each other. The other girls were throwing books, shredding pages out of them and crumpling them up. Constance could feel her face growing scarlet with fury as she saw the books being ripped apart and the bookshelves being wrapped in even more toilet paper.

"QUIET!" Constance roared, her voice echoing around the library. The girls fell silent at once, "Need I remind you all that this is a school and not a playground. I'm appalled at each and every one of you."

"Sorry Miss Hardbroom," The girls mumbled in unison.

"Not only have you destroyed priceless books that will need replacing, you have also turned the school into a pig sty. I'm actually surprised I didn't see some farm animals on my way here," she said dryly, "For every single girl involved I expect a five thousand word essay due in tomorrow morning entitled _How to Behave Correctly at Cackle's Academy_ and for each and every one of you to clean the whole school from top to bottom immediately. And that includes you, Delia," for Delia Willow had grumbled under her breath.

The girls filed out of the library in silence as they headed down to the entrance hall to make a start on cleaning up their mess. Amelia raised her eyebrows at Constance, "Well I wasn't expecting that."

Constance sighed, "It's no way to behave, treating the school like a playground."

"No," Amelia said quietly, "Did you find Davina?"

Constance nodded, "Yes. She was hiding under my desk drenched in that purple potion on the walls."

Amelia rolled her eyes, "I've never seen the girls behave like that before. It was disgraceful. Well done."

Constance furrowed her eyebrows, "For what?"

"For settling them. I wasn't expecting that loud voice to come from you, or for you to be so strict, but at least you calmed them down."

Constance smiled to herself as she and Amelia left the library, looking at some of the third years who had already made a start on scrubbing the walls. For the first time in a long time, Constance finally felt in control of her life and as she and Amelia returned to the staff room she sat down with a cup of tea and a biscuit. She looked up at the headmistress who was watching her with her twinkling blue eyes once again. She could get used to this...

* * *

 **A/N: And so begins Constance Hardbroom's legendary reign as the scary teacher!  
I hope you enjoyed that long chapter. Thank you, as always, to DreamsInLilac for helping me out with a few ideas for this chapter :D I really hope you enjoyed this!**


	10. An Abundance of Kittens

"You wanted to speak to me?" Constance asked quietly as the plump headmistress opened her office door.

It was the Friday after the funeral. The school was now spotless, the five thousand word essays were in (and marked) and Constance couldn't be more content with how her work was going. She had a new bloom of confidence since she had learned of her father's true feelings for her – he did want to see her, he didn't want her out of his life. The wicked Mistress Broomhead had manipulated them both but now Constance knew the truth, she just hoped her father did before he died.

"Yes, dear. Do sit down," Amelia opened the door a bit wider, allowing Constance in. She waved at the chair opposite her desk and Constance took it.

"How are you today, Amelia?" Constance enquired as she watched Amelia pour them each a cup of tea.

Amelia beamed at her, "I'm fine, well more than fine actually. How are you? We haven't spoken much since Monday evening."

Constance shook her head as she sipped the warm tea that had been passed over the desk to her, "No we haven't, have we? I'm very well, better than I've felt for a very long time," she was of course referring to what she found out at her father's house, "It's almost like a weight has been lifted."

Chuckling as she sipped her tea, Amelia smiled, "I expect it would feel like that. Whatever happened between you and your father was orchestrated by that foul Broomhead woman. I'm just glad she's out of your life."

Constance cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.

Amelia went on, seeing she had a captive audience, "Hecketty, as you know, trained to be a teacher alongside our very own Millicent Monkshood – the teacher you replaced. When you came for your interview Millicent told me a lot of what went on with Broomhead at the training college and she is obviously a nasty piece of work. She used to bully the other trainees, blackmail the staff. How she became a teacher I will never know, but that's beside the point," she shook her head dismissively as she went on, "Anyway the reason I have asked you to come and see me is because I was wondering if you could do me a favour.

"I need you to write a letter to Delia Willow's parents for me. She is ever such a promising student and a great role model to the other girls. All of the staff simply adore her and, well, her parents might as well know what a wonderful daughter they have raised. I would do it myself but my schedule is jam-packed what with ordering the kittens tomorrow and processing payments from parents. Do you mind?"

Constance sipped her tea again, "Not at all, Amelia. When would you like me to do it?"

"Now if you don't mind, just so we can get it out of the way. You can use my typewriter if you'd like," she said, lifting a dusty metal typewriter from under her desk and placing it in front of Constance, "You can do that while I do a bit of payment processing."

They sat in silence, broken only by the soft clicking of typewriter keys as Constance wrote the letter to Mr and Mrs Willow. Amelia cleared her throat as she looked at her chequebook and then had another sip of tea.

Finally the letter was done and Constance pulled it gently out of the typewriter and placed it beside Amelia. The headmistress looked at it and smiled, "That's brilliant. Thank you ever so much, dear. Oh look, you even signed it with my name!" She looked up at Constance and whispered, "Millicent always used to sign with her own name."

"But she was the deputy headmistress." Said Constance.

"Ah, right. Yes. She was, wasn't she?" Amelia cleared her throat again and then said quickly, "Thank you for helping me with that, Constance."

Constance dismissed herself from the room but as she went to the door, Amelia called after her, "And well done on Monday for the way you handled the girls in the library."

With a smile, Constance closed the office door and made her way up to her bedroom to gather her things for the weekend – the first weekend she'd had in the cottage since starting at the academy. She hadn't been allowed out of Amelia's sight since the incident at the beginning of term but now the headmistress appeared confident that Constance wouldn't do anything dangerous. Being in such high spirits, why would she?

She passed by some of the second years – Fiona Hallow and Naomi Lyons – who smiled brightly at her as she walked by. She climbed the spiral staircase leading up towards the teachers wing and unlocked the door to her own room.

Constance had already packed up some of her things to go back to the cottage; she had left quite a lot there such as clothes, tinned food, but she was taking some of her books with her just in case she wanted to read them at all over the weekend. Carrying her small suitcase back down the staircase with her, she exited the entrance hall through the heavy wooden doors and headed towards the forest beyond the school gates.

Soon she was back at the cottage and she unlocked the front door, pushing it slightly due to the amount of mail pressed up against the door that she had received over the fortnight – she really needed to change her mailing address to the school. With one final push, the door swung open and Constance looked down at what was on the mat; catalogues, coupons, credit cards... She rolled her eyes as she piled all of the junk-mail up on her coffee table and went to organise her books on the bookshelf.

X

The next morning Amelia woke with a stretch. Her cat, Luna, stretched on the other pillow, mimicking her mistress. Amelia smiled at her pet, tickling her back and she purred loudly. She was a very small, fat black cat with bright, twinkling green eyes and a rather meek personality, but Amelia loved her like she was her child.

As she smiled at Luna, Amelia climbed out of her bed and started to get dressed. She decided to wear a dark green cardigan on top of her black dress. She slipped on her leather court shoes and made her way down to her office, Luna nuzzling around her ankles as she walked.

Amelia had a lot of paperwork to do today. The first years' kittens had to be ordered from their usual breeder, Mrs Schwarz. She breed witches cats, or more specifically black cats. Witches cats have an extended lifetime in comparison to the average feline – while a normal house cat lives for about fifteen years, a witches familiar sometimes lives for up to fifty years, Mrs Schwarz always said it was because of the magic in their blood.

She entered her office, Luna scampering behind her and leaping onto the armchair by the fire as Amelia took the seat behind her desk, shuffling some paperwork and placing it into her already overflowing in-tray. She pushed around her files, trying to find Mrs Schwarz's telephone number. Finally, scrawled down on a yellow post-it note, she found the number. She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a cream telephone with a rotary dial. She squinted at the number and slowly entered it into the telephone, making a crisp clicking noise at each rotation of the dial.

"Schwarz's Feline Familiars." Said a heavy voice, with a slight German accent, at the end of the phone, "How can I help?"

"Mrs Schwarz, it's Amelia Cackle from Cackle's Academy."

The voice suddenly perked up, "Ah Miss Cackle! How great to hear from you again! How are you?"

"I'm doing very well, thank you. How are you?"

They spent some time catching up. Apparently there had been some unusual goings on with Mrs Schwarz's neighbour and her gardener-

"But ve von't get into zat," Mrs Schwarz said.

She had also told Amelia that her own cat, Misty, had given birth to a healthy litter of seven kittens some twelve weeks ago and they were ready to go to new homes.

"Zey're all black, Miss Cackle, so perfect for your girls," Mrs Schwarz explained, "Vould you like me to bring zem all over on Monday?"

Amelia faltered, trying to remember how many girls there were in the first year; Julia, Delia, Isla, Caitlyn, Margaret and Laura... was there another?

 _Fiona Hallow, of course_ , Amelia thought, remembering the auburn haired Hallow girl.

"Of course, Mrs Schwarz. I look forward to seeing you on Monday morning. The usual time?"

They bid each other farewell and Amelia hung up the phone, prepared to face Monday morning and the cat presentation.

X

It came around very quickly indeed. Constance arrived at the school early on Monday morning to greet the headmistress who was impatiently staring out of the staff room window, waiting for Mrs Schwarz's van to roll up outside. She sat down in her seat by the bookcase and watched Amelia, fascinated. She had never seen the older witch like this before.

"Is everything alright, Amelia?" Constance asked, helping herself to a custard cream from the biscuit tin on the table.

Amelia nodded, chewing the tip of her thumb, "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"You seem on edge. I was wondering if-"

Without warning, Amelia leapt out of her seat and raced out of the staff room like a whirlwind, leaving Constance's sentence hanging in the air. She blinked at the strange occurrence, nibbling her biscuit. She had never known Amelia Cackle to behave like this. She dismissed the headmistress' strange behaviour from her mind as the staff room door creaked open again.

It was Davina and Patricia. The terrible twosome sat down and poured each other a cup of tea. Davina looked up at Constance and greeted her. Patricia smiled kindly. They engaged in a private conversation, laughing about something and then the volume of their voices increased, obviously wanting to involve Constance in their conversation.

"Today is the big day, isn't it?" Davina asked her friend, who nodded quickly as she sipped her very strong tea.

Patricia sucked her teeth, "Aye, the kitten presentation t'day. I cannet wait. The girls get so excited, it's infectious!" She said, running a sun-scorched hand through her spiked up blonde hair, ruffling it.

Amelia came back into the staff room followed by a woman Constance had never met before. She was very small and slim, almost like a doll. She had round brown eyes and long dark hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail. The woman was carrying a brown wicker basket. Strange squeaking noises were coming from it.

"Are these the kitten?" Davina said excitedly, "I'll grab the cat food!" and she nearly dove head first into her cupboard to grab a tin that had been already opened and wrapped haphazardly in cling film.

"Davina, _why_ is that tin open already?" Constance asked irritably, raising an eyebrow. She already knew the answer and she was wondering whether there was in fact anything the peculiar chanting mistress would not eat.

"I like the flavour of the cat food so if I'm hungry I may have a tin or two," Davina said in a sweet voice as she unwrapped the cat food. She pulled a spoon from inside the tin.

Amelia lowered her eyebrows and smiled sympathetically, "Anyway, Constance. This is Mrs Schwarz. She is the lady who breeds the kittens we give to the girls."

Mrs Schwarz came over to Constance and shook her hand, "You are Millicent's replacement? How lovely to meet you."

Constance smiled demurely, picking up on her German accent. With a name like Schwarz she would have to be German, really, "Yes I am."

"How long have you vorked here, dear?" She asked, lowering the basket of kittens to the floor, "Not very long. You look so young."

"That's because she is, Mrs Schwarz. Constance is only twenty-one, aren't you?"

Blushing slightly at the attention she was receiving, Constance nodded.

Mrs Schwarz looked at Constance, fascinated by the very young teacher. Finally she blinked and clapped her hands together, "Anyvay, I best be going. I hope zese kittens are okay for you, Amelia. If you have any problems let me know."

And with that, Mrs Schwarz showed herself out. There was a roar of an engine from outside as she started up her van, a burgundy Bedford Beagle, and with a loud crunch of dirt beneath the tyres it chugged its way out of the school gates.

As Davina poured the cat food into bowls, Amelia opened up the wicker basket that Mrs Schwarz had left behind. There were jet black kittens inside, squeaking and mewing. They were smaller than Constance imagined, appearing to be only twelve weeks old. They soon found their way to the food bowls and started to wolf down Davina's poultry selection. The chanting mistress helped herself to a mouthful of cat food as the kittens mewed, purring loudly as they ate their breakfast.

The bell rang loudly signalling the teachers and the students to get into their best robes for the assembly. The tradition at Cackle's was for any special occasion, such as presentations or Halloween, the students and teachers wore their best robes and a traditional pointed witch's hat. Only on Halloween was it essential to wear their hair down (to represent the veil between life and death, according to Davina). The best robes however were not that different from the students' usual uniform, still being plain and black. The teachers were free to wear what the wanted so it could be a vast difference, such as in Patricia's case, or it could be not that different.

Constance materialised in her bedroom and pulled her best robes over her head, straightening them, and then put on her hat. It rested neatly on top of her bun. At her reflection, Constance allowed herself a little smile. She did look quite smart like this. She folded her arms and with a whoosh of air she was back in the staff room with Davina who had also put on her best robes and her hat, which had obviously been damaged as it was bent at an awkward angle at the very tip.

Amelia entered the room, followed by Patricia. Both women were wearing their best robes. Amelia looked quite splendid, wearing her white spectacles and her perfectly ironed robes. All of the staff helped to get the kittens back into their basket and Patricia carried them to the great hall where they found a line of students. They were all talking very loudly until Constance arrived at which point they fell silent.

Constance tapped Amelia on the shoulder, "What on Earth is wrong with the girls? They've been like this all week, it's like they're frightened I might rip their heads off."

"You've hit the nail on the head. The girls know you aren't to be messed with after the incident in the library."

Taking the clipboard that Amelia passed back to her, Constance sighed deeply. She didn't intend to frighten the girls, she was just having a bit of a bad day. Of course the students didn't know that, she didn't want them to know that.

The girls filed into the hall in silence, Patricia lugging the heavy basket of kittens and Constance, Davina and Amelia following behind. The first years sat in the front row, all wearing their best robes.

"Miss Bat, if you could play the school song please?" Amelia announced. The chanting teacher approached the harmonium at the back of the hall and the school burst into droning the song, all about striving and pride. Over the sound of the harmonium Constance could still hear the kittens mewing, wanting to be let out of the basket.

Finally the song came to an end and Amelia took centre stage, "Proudly on our brooms we fly, girls, but we will never fly alone. Today our first year girls will be meeting their feline friends for the first time. Miss Hardbroom will call out your name and you will approach the podium to collect your black kitten."

Constance looked down at her register as Davina played the school song again, slightly off key which was irritating her. She read out the register, each girl approaching the podium and retrieving their kitten from Amelia. Finally it was time for the final kitten to be passed to Delia and Constance looked into the basket to see two kittens; Delia's and one who would have to go back to Mrs Schwarz.

"There appears to be a spare kitten," she whispered from the corner of her mouth. Amelia looked back into the basket as she passed Delia her kitten.

"No, there's one more girl to come up." Amelia argued, "Fiona Hallow."

Constance rolled her eyes, "There are six students in the first year, Amelia. Fiona Hallow is a second year," then, remembering that she had left a list of the first year students and their character traits on the headmistress' desk, she asked, "Did you not look at the list I gave you?"

"Which list?"

"The first year class list. I put it in your in-tray."

Amelia chewed her bottom lip, furrowing her eyebrows again. She realised she had made a mistake, "Oh dear. We'll deal with this in the staff room later."

And with that Davina stopped playing the school song and the students filed out of the hall, the first years going to the courtyard to train their cats to sit on their broomsticks. The rest of the school had a holiday today so the older students were advised to concentrate on studying in the library, complete homework in their bedrooms or to help the first years with their kittens.

The teachers returned to the staff room, Amelia carrying the spare kitten which squirmed, fighting to be free. It yowled loudly, digging its claws into Amelia's shoulders as they finally sat down and could close the staff room door. Amelia let go of the kitten and sucked her thumb which had been caught by the kitten's flailing claws.

It was a scrawny looking thing with long legs, big paws, bat-like ears and wide, olive green eyes. Constance sat down in her usual seat, glaring over at Amelia.

"I told you to look at the list before you ordered the kittens."

"It must have got muddled up with the rest of my paperwork when I was looking for Mrs Schwarz's telephone number." Admitted Amelia. She looked down at the kitten which had started chasing its long tail and then up at Constance, "What do we do with this one, then?"

Constance shook her head, "I imagine we'll need to send it back to Mrs Schwarz. There's nothing else we can do really, it won't have an owner."

They watched the kitten for a while, Amelia leaving the staff room to call the breeder. It really was a silly little creature. It was busy licking itself at the moment, its tail swishing from side to side. It glared at its tail and suddenly pounced, beginning to chase it once again. Then, with a thud, it threw itself onto the floor and started licking under its chin.

"Well it's a lass," Patricia said quietly, "It hasn't got any goolies."

Davina snorted loudly, breaking into a chuckle as she helped herself to more cat food. Constance rolled her eyes, watching as the kitten came over to her. She moved her leg away as it tried to nuzzle her. She looked up at Constance with her wide eyes, her pupils large and pleading.

"Don't look at me like that, young lady." Constance mumbled as the kitten continued to try and get her attention. She purred loudly, trying in some way to try and get Constance to show her some affection.

Amelia walked back into the room with a solemn expression on her face. She sat down in her seat beneath the window and closed her eyes. It was obviously bad news.

"I gather she can't take the kitten back, then?" Patricia asked, trying to beckon the kitten over. The little black kitten was completely enamoured of Constance, refusing to leave her side. She was staring up at her. Constance hadn't done anything to encourage the behaviour, the kitten had just taken a shine to her.

"Not yet," Amelia said quietly, "Not until she gets back from her holiday in Cyprus. She's leaving later on today."

"I imagine you've paid for that holiday, Amelia," Constance said, still trying to shoo the kitten away.

"You're probably right. But what," Amelia's voice filled with a child-like joy as she looked down at the kitten, "Are we going to do with you?" She observed the kitten trying to get close to Constance, "I suppose you could look after her until Mrs Schwarz gets back."

Constance's jaw fell open. She couldn't look after a kitten, a kitten that would need constant attention, feeding, litter changing. She couldn't do that!

Almost reading her mind, Amelia said, "It is a massive responsibility but it will only be for a week or so. Will that be alright?"

"Do I really have a choice?" Constance asked wearily. She looked down at the kitten which had succeeded in nuzzling up to her leg. She mewed contentedly, looking up at her with her wide eyes.

"Thank you Constance, dear. I do realise I have put so much on you lately but I'm sure you and this kitten will be fine."

The rest of the day was spent gathering things together for the spare kitten and putting them in Constance's room; a litter tray, a food bowl and a scratching post all previously belonging to Millicent Monkshood's cat, Lily. It was nearly midnight by the time Constance had finished her rounds, checking to make sure all of the students were asleep. She had popped her head around Caitlyn's door, who was a very restless child, and had seen that her kitten was asleep at the foot of the bed, purring like a sports car. She had told Caitlyn to go to sleep immediately and the young girl blew out her candle and rolled over, muttering something that Constance couldn't hear.

She returned to her room to find the spare kitten sitting right behind the door waiting for her, its green eyes sparkling in the light of her lantern. Constance changed into her pyjamas, this time a pair of silky red ones, and climbed into bed. She told the kitten to sleep in her basket, another of Millicent's hand-me-downs and she obliged, blinking submissively at her. Constance blew out her candle and allowed herself to go to sleep for the first time since she had learned of her father's death.

X

It was two in the morning and Amelia was just coming back from the bathroom. She had been meaning to check up on Constance and the kitten but had forgotten. She had been rather scatterbrained of late, wondering if it was the pressures of being a lone headmistress. She did enjoy the help from Millicent but there wasn't a member of staff who was mature enough to take on the role of deputy yet.

She tapped softly on Constance's door. There was no sound from the room and no light coming from the crack beneath the door. She was asleep. Amelia lifted her lantern, opening the door which creaked slightly. She walked carefully over to Constance, looking at her as she slept. Her hair was fanned out across the pillow and Amelia noticed a strange lump on top of her head, perhaps just a clump of hair that had been tangled with sleep.

Where was the kitten? It wasn't in the basket, it wasn't anywhere on the bed... Perhaps it had managed to get out. Mrs Schwarz wouldn't be happy about her losing the kitten. Her heart raced at the thought of the little kitten running around the school, maybe getting hurt or worse.

The strange lump on Constance's head moved, long legs and big paws stretching out and curling back up again. With a sigh of relief, Amelia realised that the kitten had snuggled up on Constance's hair. It was obvious that the kitten was fond of the potions teacher and was getting quite attached.

"It would be rather unfair to separate them now," Amelia muttered as she left the bedroom and headed back to her own room for a good night's sleep.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	11. How Do You Solve A Problem Like Morgana?

Constance woke up the next morning and felt a strange, vibrating pressure against the top of her head. She tried to turn and look to see what it was but found she couldn't move. Whatever the strange thing was it was holding onto her head and had her hair in a vice grip. Carefully, she raised her hand and found whatever it was was soft and furry.

"Will you get off my head?!" She barked at the sleeping kitten which stretched innocently as she stood up. She miaowed softly and then walked down Constance's shoulder and sat on her chest, staring at her with her wide eyes. Constance wanted to push it away so she could get up and get ready for her lessons (which weren't for another two hours) but seeing how sleepy this little kitten was she couldn't resist having fifteen more minutes just this once.

The kitten closed her eyes slowly, blinking at Constance. Constance blinked back at her. The kitten purred loudly, appearing to nod her head as she padded the duvet on top of Constance's chest and then curled back into a tiny black ball of fluff and purred herself to sleep.

"Come on, Little One. You have to let me get up. You'll be asleep on me all day if you go on like this."

The kitten didn't move.

"Come on."

She stirred, stretching her long legs and paws and she opened her eyes, blinking at Constance again. As though listening to what she had said, the kitten climbed from Constance's chest and curled up at the end of the bed. Constance climbed out of her bed and got dressed, brushed her hair and then pulled it into her usual tight bun. She caught the kitten's reflection in her mirror as she rolled over in her sleep, purring softly.

Constance allowed herself a smile as she cast a spell to clean the litter tray and then stepped out of her bedroom. She made her way down to the staff room for the daily staff briefing before morning assembly. Amelia explained that they had been approached by a business that specialised in encouraging business skills in young people. When Davina had heard what the students would be doing for the day she was ecstatic;

"Ducks?!" She squealed excitedly, sending wet tea leaves flying all over the staff room table.

"Origami ducks," Amelia explained, "The students need to mass produce them in the great hall all morning and then try and sell their selection to the people who are coming in the afternoon."

"They'll be out of control by the end of the day," Constance stated, imagining the amount of havoc that would be caused if the girls were left to their own devices for the morning making paper ducks. If Davina got involved, which she definitely would given it was relating to her recent obsession with ducks, she would get them all hyped up and they would be completely out of control. Constance would have to cool down the first years straight afterwards and make them behave properly on their broomsticks. She was dreading the whole experience.

Amelia, however, seemed in high spirits, "It will instill the girls with some business knowledge and perhaps encourage them to be more enterprising. There is no need to be so worried about it. Davina will be there to look after them and will settle any issues that may arise."

Constance rolled her eyes, again fearing that her first years would be uncontrollable after the event. No matter how much Amelia tried to tell her that there was no issue she kept fearing the worst.

"Anyway, that will be on Friday so a nice way to start off the weekend for the girls," Amelia continued, "And the first years will need some official cat training which I'm sure you've already made a start on planning, Constance."

Constance blinked. She had jotted down on her desk in the potions lab something about broomstick training but with no cat of her own to display to the students she would be of little use, "Amelia, I don't have a cat."

"Well use your kitten."

"She's not mine. She's going back to Mrs Schwarz... isn't she?"

Amelia cocked her head at Constance, raising an eyebrow, "Only if you want her to. Do you?"

Looking out towards the window, away from Amelia's deep gaze that currently felt like it was x-raying her, Constance wondered if she could part from the little kitten that only half an hour before had been padding her chest and purring at her. The little skip her heart gave as she looked at the sleeping kitten in the reflection of her mirror... could she really part from that feeling? She looked back at Amelia who was obviously smiling at her, but she was resting her chin on her hand, her lips hidden by her fingers as she traced across her top lip with her index finger.

Constance shook her head almost impassively as Amelia revealed the wide smile that she had been hiding behind her hand, "I thought not. Well I'll leave a message with Mrs Schwarz's housekeeper and let her know she won't need to come back for the spare kitten."

The bell rang for assembly and the staff filed out of the staff room towards the great hall where the students were already in their seats. The main announcement of the day was about Duck Day. The girls rejoiced. The fact that they'd have nearly a whole day without lessons was a cause for great merriment. After that it was a case of going over any school rules that had been broken by students and reinforcing these rules with particular punishments - lines of "I must not fly my broomstick up the staircase with first years attached to the brush-end by their shoelaces" for example. Of course Caitlyn Shepherd had been involved in this incident, she was the first year in question but her behaviour was obviously instigated by Carla Honeydew from the third year, another badly behaved pupil who needed to be weeded out and shown how to behave properly.

Soon it was time for the first lesson of the day and to her relief, Constance had a free lesson that she could spend preparing for the upcoming flying lesson with the first years. She made her way back up to her bedroom to find the little black kitten watching the birds from the windowsill. She was making a peculiar clicking noise and her tail was shuddering.

As Constance sat down on her bed, the little kitten bounced down from the windowsill to greet her, rubbing against her forearm with a welcoming purr.

"Apparently you're mine now, Little One." She whispered as the kitten continued to nuzzle her, "I can't keep calling you Little One though, can I? You need a proper name."

The little kitten looked up at her and chirped, trying to climb onto her knee.

"What to call you. It has to be something magical. A proper Witch's cat's name," She looked over at her bookshelf, "Alice? No, you don't look like an Alice do you?" Constance shook her head at the kitten who blinked up at her, "How about..." She spotted another of her favourites - _Gawain and the Green Knight._ It was a story about King Arthur and there was obviously going to be a lot of magic in a story about King Arthur; dragons, wizard, daring knights, damsels in distress and a witch, "Morgana Le Faye... And there's your name - Morgana!"

She looked down at the kitten who purred loudly at her new name. The little Morgana padded Constance's lap with her front paws and looked as though she was about to doze off again but Constance stood up. Morgana miaowed in protest but Constance shook her head.

"No, we're having none of that. We are doing a bit of broomstick practice," She picked up the kitten which snuggled into her chest as she carried her downstairs and into the courtyard to grab her broomstick. The sight of Miss Hardbroom carrying an adorable sleepy kitten in her arms encouraged a lot of cooing from some of the students playing in the courtyard. Their squawking was diminished when Constance shot them a glare that her first years had branded her Medusa look.

She ordered her broomstick to hover (which was very tricky with only one hand free) and then carefully placed Morgana on the bristles. She tottered and then, with an undignified squeak, she slipped off the edge of the brush and landed on the cobblestone floor with a thud. The students were obviously watching Constance. She could feel her cheeks going red but bit her tongue, not wanting to frighten her kitten.

"Come on, Morgana. We can do better than that. All you need to do is balance on the broomstick. Like this," She sat on the hovering broomstick before she dismounted it again and picked up the tiny kitten, holding her so she could look into her olive green eyes, "Can you do that for me?"

Morgana looked into Constance's eyes and licked the tip of her nose with her raspy tongue. This gained another coo from the students, but Constance didn't discourage it this time as she placed Morgana back on the broomstick and this time she stayed in place.

Although she was standing with her tail perfectly straight and up towards the sky to maintain her balance, Morgana was managing to stay upright on the broomstick with no assistance from Constance, who was looking admirably at her pet. After a few more goes Constance was satisfied that her kitten was ready. She picked her up again.

"Well done, Little One," She whispered in an uncharacteristic baby-voice, "You did so well."

Morgana pawed her cheek and miaowed loudly, wanting to climb back onto her new favourite toy. Constance obliged, letting her sit bolt upright on her broomstick as the bell rang for the next lesson which was the cat training lesson with the first years.

At Cackle's it was only necessary for students that were in the third year and upwards to have their cats on their broomsticks whenever they needed to fly. It was, however, encouraged from a young age for the kittens to become used to flying otherwise the students could be left with a moggie that was only good for catching mice in the kitchens.

The first years filed through the front door of the school leading into the courtyard, Delia Willow's training attempts looked rather promising. Her kitten, Orion, was sitting like a parrot on her shoulder. Caitlyn, who had her laces tucked neatly into her boots after the shaming in front of the whole school that morning, had her kitten, Oliver, bundled like a koala against her chest.

The students saw Morgana sitting elegantly on the end of Constance's broomstick and were shocked that their form mistress could possibly own such a beautiful pet. Morgana was indeed the most beautiful kitten of the litter, though she was perhaps the most hyperactive. Her black fur was shining like silk in the early Autumn sun, her olive green eyes glistening as she looked up at her mistress but then she caught sight of her tail out of the corner of her eye. Constance gave her a sharp, "No," and she stopped, returning to her original statuesque position on the brush-end of the broomstick.

The first years formed a line in front of Constance and held their kittens, waiting to be greeted.

"Good morning, girls," Constance said crisply, "As I'm sure you are already aware the rest of your morning will be dedicated solely to training your new kittens. I know some of you have done some training with them already but it is essential that you have some official training. Now," she looked at her students and smiled at Delia, "Delia. Would you put Orion on the end of your broomstick and show the other girls how it is done?"

"Of course, Miss Hardbroom," Delia replied, tapping the brush. Orion leapt down from her shoulder and sat in quite the same way as Morgana, like an Egyptian statue. He seemed rather confident sitting on his broomstick.

"Very good, Delia. Now girls, I would like you all to try and do the same. Caitlyn," Constance sighed wearily, rolling her eyes. Caitlyn Shepherd was yet again being a nuisance. She was chasing Oliver away from the heels of her friend, Isla Moonshine, "What are you doing?"

She grabbed her kitten and bundled him in her arms again, "He fell out of my arms, Miss," she answered, blowing a long red hair away from her face.

Constance shook her head dismissively, watching as the girls tapped their hovering broomsticks and encouraged their kittens to climb onto them. The only one that seemed to be having a problem was...

"Caitlyn, whatever is the matter with your kitten? Did you not train him at all yesterday?"

As Constance stood behind her pupil she observed her kitten. Caitlyn said in a quiet voice, "His claws aren't very sharp, Miss. I think he's struggling to keep hold of the bristles."

Caitlyn knelt down to pick up Oliver as he slipped off the brush end again. He really was completely useless. Were it not for the fact that he was a purebred Witch's cat he would have been sent down to the kitchens to help catch the mice and rats. Sadly the job of "kitchen mouser" was better suited to a scruffy tabby cat than a silky black one.

Constance took Oliver from Caitlyn and glanced up at Morgana. She was still sitting patiently on the broomstick, washing her whiskers. She turned her attention back to Oliver who was squirming, eagerly trying to get back to Caitlyn. Constance placed him firmly on Caitlyn's waiting broomstick and told him to stay. And he did.

"How did you do that, Miss?"

"Assertiveness and patience, Caitlyn dear. That's all." She explained as she went back to Morgana who was staring at a flock of geese flying over head. She was making the same clicking noise she had done earlier and Constance's eyebrows knitted together as she looked at her. Morgana caught sight of her mistress and proceeded to look innocently up at her.

Constance observed the girls for a little bit longer until the bell rang for lunchtime. She put away her broomstick and carried Morgana to the staff room. She was greeted by a beaming Amelia who was reading a book about dieting and Patricia, who was eating what looked like a steak and kidney pie.

They saw the tiny kitten bundled in her arms and cooed like the students had an hour and a half before.

"Have you named her yet?" Amelia asked, tickling behind her ears. Morgana purred loudly at her touch, nuzzling into her hand.

"Morgana," Constance said, "After Morgana Le Faye."

"Ah from the King Arthur stories!" Patricia cried, spitting crumbs of pie all over the table.

Constance nodded, looking down at the kitten that was starting to drift off, cradled peacefully in her arms. She was actually quite surprised that Patricia was even aware of the King Arthur stories!

Davina swept into the room, flicking her shawl all over the place as she hummed a song under her breath. She creaked into a chair after she grabbed herself a pot of her Hags and Horrock's noodles and began to suck them up using her fork. Amelia turned to Constance and smiled.

"Are you getting on well, then?"

"Very well. She is such a good little kitten. I can't thank you enough, Amelia." Constance whispered as she rocked Morgana gently in her arms like a baby. All of the broomstick flying had really taken it out of her. As she looked down at the sleeping kitten in her arms, Constance realised she had never felt so lucky.

* * *

 **Thanks for taking the time to read this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. A big thank you to DreamsInLilac and plebs :D Next week will be Duck Day!**


	12. Duck Day

It was time for Duck Day at Cackle's Academy and the company that were hosting the event had arrived bright and early as the girls were having their breakfast. Davina had greeted them; a young lady with bright red hair cropped into a bowl cut and a young man with spiked black hair who wore heavy eyeliner and chains around his belt.

"Are they really appropriate to be working with the girls?" Constance asked as Davina escorted the presenters to the great hall after breakfast.

Amelia frowned, "I know they appear quite eccentric but-"

"Quite eccentric!" She scoffed, "Amelia, I apologise, but if we are allowing the girls to socialise with those kinds of people then what kind of example are we setting?!"

"Perhaps it will be a good exercise, not just for the girls but for you as well."

Constance furrowed her eyebrows, sipping a cup of tea, "What does that mean?"

Amelia pushed herself out of her chair and began to pace the staff room, folding her hands behind her back, "Constance dear, I think you have been spending too much time with people older than you. It isn't healthy. You should be spending time with people your own age, like the people who have come to visit us today."

"But-"

Shaking her head, Amelia continuing her route back and forth from the stationary cupboard to the hearth, "I want you to help supervise the girls with Patricia and Davina and to bond a bit with the hosts."

Constance closed her eyes, her heart sinking. She had had a nightmare last night so she wasn't in the best mood to start with, but the thought of babysitting Davina Bat and Patricia Gimlet made her feel even worse. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath to try and calm her nerves.

"I understand how you feel about their appearances but that doesn't make them bad people. They are just different, unique. I appreciate it will be difficult for you to let your guard down but at least try to communicate with them," Advised Amelia as she broke her path and made her way to the staff room door to open it.

Constance appreciated Amelia's efforts to help her socialise. At the moment, however, Constance would have been quite comfortable catching up with some of her marking. She had a pile of third year mock exams to finish grading and she knew that she would need to mark the tests in her own time – the single downside of being a teacher in her eyes. She nodded her head submissively and Amelia smiled hopefully as she turned the door handle, the staff room door swinging open.

In the doorway was a primped and preened Patricia, her hair teased and curled, her eye makeup appearing to weigh her eyes down. She looked at Amelia, "I've heard there's a canny lookin' lad 'ere today, Miss Cackle," She said as she sauntered into the staff room. She was wearing a bright pink PVC skirt that creaked as she bent over the table to grab a bourbon biscuit. On top of her skirt she wore a plain white blouse. Constance was shocked at the fact that Patricia owned something that wasn't a fluorescent colour, "How old is 'e?"

"Too young for you, Patricia," Amelia stated with a chuckle as she walked through the staff room door leaving Constance and Patricia alone.

Constance couldn't remember if she had ever actually been left alone with the most adventurous member of staff. She smiled awkwardly up at her as she took her seat.

"How are ye feelin', petal?" Patricia asked, sitting down with a quiet groan, "No more of those episodes?"

Constance shook her head, "No. Not since the last one."

Patricia smiled at Constance and then looked at the table, fiddling with the lace table cloth. Constance cleared her throat, looking at the cuckoo clock above the mantlepiece that seemed to be ticking louder than usual. Patricia looked up at Constance again and then looked back at the table.

"So..." Constance said finally, drumming her fingers on the table, "Did you go anywhere nice during the summer holidays?"

Patricia's face lit up at the thought of having a captive audience for her story. When she spoke, her voice came out an octave higher than usual, "Well actually Davina and I went on holiday to America."

"Really?"

She nodded, clearing her throat again, "We went to Dallas. I was hopin' to see Southfork, you know from the TV show-"

"Not really."

"-But that wasn't there – apparently it's all on a big sound stage - so I did a bit of shoppin' instead. Anyway, we actually went over there to see Davina's favourite band. We normally go and see a concert ev'ry year. Last year we saw Kate Bush, this year we saw Fleetwood Mac. It is a bit of a hike but we also got to see a proper American city so really we killed two birds with one stone, so to speak. The point is, is that Davina enjoyed hersel'. She's into all sorts, our Davina."

"I hadn't noticed," Constance muttered dryly.

Patricia chuckled and continued, "Anyway, after we got home I actually went on holiday to a cabin in the Inner Hebrides. The countryside is amazin' there, I've been there before when I was a behn. I went there with a bloke I met called Daniel," Patricia blushed, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth as she touched the back of her neck, "For a dwarf he was very well endowed."

Constance felt the bile rise in her throat as Patricia finally finished her anecdote. She didn't really want to know about Patricia's love life and she certainly didn't care to hear about their intimacy.

"How about you? I bet you had a romantic fling in Ibiza or something like that, a bonny lass like you." Patricia let out a girlish giggle as she looked at Constance.

A romantic fling in Ibiza?! Constance had never left the country, let alone had a romantic fling. She'd never been amorous with anyone, unless what happened with Mistress Broomhead was... No, it couldn't possibly be considered that, could it? Constance cleared her throat and forced a chuckle, trying to remove the thought of her old tutor from her mind, "No, no. I, ahem, was at university and looking for work."

"Oh yeah, you were livin' in the cottage weren't ye?"

Constance nodded as the school bell rang which meant that everyone had to make their way to the great hall, apart from Amelia who would be spending the day filing some paperwork. Without a deputy to help her hold the fort she was really struggling with basic things like admin, sending out letters... She kept coming to Constance for help as she was the only one she could trust to do the job efficiently but she and Amelia both knew that she was far too young and inexperienced to be a deputy at the mere age of twenty-one so the role would have to go to someone else.

Constance and Patricia entered the great hall, Patricia's skirt creaking as she walked. The hall was host to four large tables with long benches on either side of each. The benches were already filled with the students (and Davina) and they were busy familiarising themselves with their tools. Each of the tables had been separated into two halves and each of these halves had a large A1 notepad to work from. Constance assumed this was to make the origami ducks.

On the podium at the back of the hall were the two strange youths Amelia insisted on Constance attempting to speak to. The young woman waved, Constance grimaced as she tried to force a smile. Patricia nudged her, pushing her to go up to greet them but Constance shook her head.

The young man with the eyeliner and chains began to speak. All of the students' heads turned, in awe of this new, fascinating man, "Hello girls. I'm James, this is Emma," the red haired girl waved at the girls, "We're from a company that specialises in business skills for young people and after today you are all going to walk away with your eyes wide open to the business world..."

Constance rolled her eyes, listening to his over-enthusiastic voice. He was bouncing around the stage like a power-ball, waving his arms, his chains clicking and jingling as he walked. James also had a very annoying lip ring at the side of his mouth. Judging by how he looked he was obviously into his punk music. Davina would be all over him and, by the look on her face, so would Patricia. She was trying to look seductive but failed miserably. She was trying to nibble the tip of her thumb temptingly but it just looked like she was biting her nails. The girls also worshipped him, being the only male they had seen over the past month or so. The third years, Davina's class, were muttering about how much of "a hunk" he was. Davina wasn't aiding the situation at all, gazing at him in awe with much the same expression as her students.

Finally James finished his opening pitch and the girls set to work on making their ducks. Davina had brought her favourite duck, Lawrence, along with her for inspiration. Constance paced between the tables of students until she came face to face with...

"Hello, I'm Emma," Emma said with a smile, introducing herself. She held out a hand for Constance to shake but she refused it, "What's your name?" She asked, sounding more reserved as she ran her pale hand through her pillar-box red bowl cut.

"Hardbroom."

"Do you have a first name?" Emma asked, her voice sounding hopeful.

"Yes," Constance allowed herself a sneery smile, "Miss." She pushed passed Emma, who looked taken aback, and continued observing the girls. She should really have been keeping an eye on Patricia. The jewellery design teacher had James trapped in a corner as she played with the long, golden chain around her neck.

The girls were quieter than Constance had ever known them to be. Delia was busying herself making normal origami ducks, Caitlyn Shepherd and Isla Moonshine were making miniature ducks.

"Do you mind if I sit with you, girls?" Constance asked, tucking her dress under her knees as she sat on the bench beside her students.

She took one of the sheets of paper and began to fold it, copying the girls who did not argue at her presence at their table. She folded the paper into a triangle first, then the other way. After that she folded the corners... but they weren't even. She folded them the other way and kept trying until the sheet of paper was crumpling in the corners. She frowned as she folded the edges up to form what looked like a demented swan rather than a duck. She balled it up and threw it across the table in her frustration. She heard a little chuckle escape from Caitlyn and she smiled ever so slightly at the red haired student.

After her useless attempt, Constance began to observe Isla who was busy expertly creating the tiny ducks, "Why have you made small ducks, Isla?" She asked, leaning over her student to look at her mountain of work.

"Actually, Miss, they're ducklings," Caitlyn smirked, flicking her red hair out of her face.

"That one," Explained Isla, pointing at a more average sized duck, "Is their mother and these are her babies."

"A very fruitful loin." Stated Constance as she picked up one of the many paper ducklings. She had to admit, despite her earlier distaste for the idea of Duck Day, the girls were really concentrating on their work. It was like a factory manufacturing line. Each girl had their individual job and they produced their products like machines. It was fascinating to watch. Perhaps it would instill them with some discipline after all.

Davina was taking the exercise one step too far and was trying to wrap a few of her rubber ducks in paper to make them look more realistic. When James was free of Patricia he asked her about this. She simply said, "Well at the moment they all just look like crumpled up pieces of paper so I'm making them look more interesting."

By noon there was a large pile of miniature ducks on Caitlyn and Isla's section of the first year table. Delia and Julia Chestnut's section, however, was looking rather empty. Davina had been entertaining the girls with her attempts, which ended up being balled up and thrown across the room on numerous occasions. One or two hit Constance which made the girls howl with laughter until they saw the expression, like thunder, on her face.

The bell for lunch rang and everyone filed into the courtyard for a picnic (no one wanted to move the large amount of work that the girls had done). There were more benches outside, smaller than the ones in the great hall, with different kinds of food on them. Obviously the kitchen staff had prepared a buffet for the girls. There were finger sandwiches, little sausage rolls, corned beef pie and for dessert there were tiny little cream cakes. Amelia had emerged from her office just as the tiny cream slices were being carried past her office, it was almost like she had a sixth sense for cake.

"I do love a cream slice," She said as she sat at the staff table with her colleagues and James and Emma.

Emma nodded her head, smiling in Constance's direction. She scratched her nose absently and revealed an upturned septum ring. Constance turned her head away as she ate her tiny prawn mayonnaise sandwich in disgust.

 _Such a bad influence on the girls_ , she thought to herself as she nibbled the crust of her sandwich.

"So what are the girls going to be doin' next?" Asked Patricia through a mouthful of Victoria sponge, fluttering her eyelashes at the young man in front of her.

James swallowed his corned beef pie hastily, "Well... They've finished their ducks so what they're going to do next is a pitch in front of Emma and I, trying to sell us what they've made. Whoever wins gets a certificate and a box of chocolates."

Constance raised a slanting eyebrow as Amelia beamed, working through the mountain of cream cakes she had piled onto her paper plate.

As the last of the food was placed carefully into Tupperware, the students filed back into the great hall, led by James and Emma. Emma had her hands in the back pockets of her red tartan skinny jeans as she lingered, waiting for Constance.

"Are you alright?" She asked warmly, gently touching Constance's arm, "You seem so trapped in your own head."

Constance pulled away from her, folding her arms over her chest, "How dare you, I am not trapped. Now if you don't mind I have a meeting with the headmistress." And with that she stomped off to Amelia's office, again leaving Emma with a bewildered look on her face.

"The cheek of it!" She announced as she strode into Amelia's office where the headmistress had only just sat down herself. Constance strode to the armchair by the fire, her usual seat, and sat down, "Saying I'm trapped. How dare she assume that-"

Amelia furrowed her brow in confusion, "Who are you talking about, Constance?"

Constance beat her arm off the chair, "That Emma girl."

Standing up and taking the seat opposite Constance, she took the young witch's hands in her own, "Did you ever think that she was just trying to be friendly?" Amelia patted Constance's cold hand, "Maybe she's just lonely and looking for someone to talk to. That James boy doesn't seem like great company for her. I know she's the embodiment of everything you dislike-" She stopped as Constance made a scathing noise, "- But give her a chance."

"I'm happy on my own, Amelia," Constance stated although her words couldn't be further from the truth. What she should have said was _"I don't want to get hurt,"_ but then she would have to explain what happened with Mistress Broomhead and it was far too much for her at the moment. Emma did seem like a very sweet girl but, "She _is_ the embodiment of everything I dislike," she repeated Amelia's words but in a more dismissive voice than the headmistress.

Amelia pursed her lips, "If that's how you feel then you can help me with some paperwork until the end of the day."

Constance gave a sigh of relief, sitting down to the side of Amelia's desk. She organised the accident forms, placing them into separate folders for each year group and then by the students' surnames. She also helped type out a letter to the Grand Wizard, Egbert Hellibore, inviting him to the Halloween celebrations at the castle.

"Is he definitely coming?" Enquired Constance as she typed the opening line of the letter.

Amelia shook her head, "I'm just inviting him at the moment. He seems rather besotted with Phyllis Pentangle at the moment so he may end up going to see her this year. Patricia will be disappointed again, she was inconsolable for a week last time he declined the invite."

Constance smirked at the thought of Patricia fawning over the Grand Wizard, a man Constance had never met before. She continued to click the letters on the old typewriter, trying to be as persuasive as possible. Although she had no idea what Amelia had planned for Halloween, Constance promised a grand feast in her letter and as she gave it to Amelia to proofread, the headmistress smiled.

"I don't think Patricia will be let down this year," she passed the letter back to Constance, her eyes twinkling as she said, "Could you put that in an envelope and seal it for me, please? I'll take it down to the postbox later. The last post doesn't go until six so we have plenty of time." Constance obliged and folded the letter carefully, slotting it into a small envelope and placing it on the edge of Amelia's desk.

The break-time bell rang and the girls skipped out of the great hall, followed by Patricia and Davina who were in incredibly high spirits. Caitlyn and Isla won the box of chocolates and certificate for their miniature ducklings. The two best friends were heading to the courtyard for break-time as Constance caught them, stepping out of Amelia's office.

"Well done, girls," she said witheringly, "I expect you will be going to share those with your friends now?" Caitlyn looked at Isla, having a silent conversation. Then she looked up at Constance and offered her a chocolate. Constance allowed herself a little smile at the kind gesture but declined, "No thank you, Caitlyn dear. You share them amongst the other first years."

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," Caitlyn closed the box of chocolates and walked out into the courtyard accompanied by her friend.

"Don't forget," Constance called after her just as she opened the door, "You have flying practice after this." And with that she returned to Amelia's office and sat down by the hearth. Just as she returned to her seat there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in!" Amelia called in a sing-song voice.

Emma entered the office, smiling at Constance, "We're all packed up and ready to go so I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Bye." Constance said shortly, picking her nails. Amelia shot her a glare, narrowing her eyes. She cleared her throat, "It has been lovely meeting you," she said in a rehearsed voice.

Emma's smile broadened as she came into the office and placed a hand on Constance's arm, "I was wondering," she blushed slightly, "Would you like to go for a drink sometime?"

Constance turned her head to look up at Emma in shock. Amelia seemed rather pleased with the situation.

"I, erm..." Constance coughed, "Well I-"

Emma handed her a crumpled up piece of paper – it was an origami duck. As Emma swept out of the office, Constance opened up the duck. There was a small note in very child-like handwriting, _Dear Miss Hardbroom. Sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Call me when you get the chance?_ And beneath this was Emma's number.

"Please give the girl a chance, Constance. You never know what might happen," Amelia said quietly as she continued to fill in her reports.

Constance shook her head, crumpling up the note and throwing it in the paper waste bin by Amelia's desk, "I do not have time for romance, Amelia."

"Why?" Amelia put down her pen and looked up at Constance, appearing to lean forward in her chair.

"Because I don't, and that's the end of it." Snapped Constance, pushing herself out of the chair, "Now if you don't mind I have a class to teach, or do you want to interfere in that as well?"

Constance folded her arms without another thought for Amelia and materialised in the courtyard just as the bell for the end of break rang. The first years remained, gathering their broomsticks from the broom shed. They were all rather giddy, excited after the events of the day. They all ordered their brooms to hover as Constance summoned her broomstick from the broom shed. Her magic zaps were deep red rather than their usual pale blue. She was frustrated and it was going to affect her if she continued to allow Amelia's interfering to bother her. The cheek of it, getting involved in matters that didn't concern her. Constance cleared her throat, dismissing the thought of the nosy headmistress from her mind.

"Right girls. Girls!" She shouted, beating her broomstick off the floor. The girls were all laughing loudly about something, "What is the matter with you all?"

The first year class were very restless, still laughing and acting as though it was still break-time. Constance had no patience for this, "If you don't behave yourselves immediately we will go inside and you will all write lines from the Historica Magicka. Do I make myself clear?"

The students did not hear her. The sound of their laughter echoed around the courtyard. Whatever had been in the chocolate Caitlyn had been awarded and handed out at break-time had obviously gone to their heads. Constance fumbled in the pocket of her dress and pulled out a shiny, silver whistle on a string. She blew it sharply and the shrill whistle made the girls stop laughing and look more alert.

"EVERYBODY TO CLASSROOM TWO IMMEDIATELY!" She barked, leading the girls into the castle and towards the small classroom by the inner courtyard. It was usually used for detentions and sometimes spell class. The girls took their seats, looking very subdued now that their form mistress had gone through with her threat.

Constance took the seat behind the desk and looked at her pupils, rage in her heart, "Need I remind you, yet again, that this is a school and not a playground? Take out your exercise books and write out the first four pages of the Historica Magicka. In silence," She said, for Delia Willow raised her hand.

She zapped two copies of the volume onto each desk and watched as the girls proceeded to write out their lines in silence. Constance pulled a book out from the top drawer of the desk – a leather-bound copy of the school charter – and began to read it, writing down key points on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom.

 _No. 12 - Dignity and deportment at all times._

 _No. 34 – All students must behave appropriately during school hours._

 _No. 66 – All students must do as they are told by members of staff._

"When you have finished writing lines from the Historica Magicka, you will write one-hundred lines of each of these school rules until the end of the session," she continued to write on the board; the date, the amount of lines required before the end of the lesson. Before she was about to turn around she felt something brush against her bun. Whatever it was landed on the floor at her feet.

"WHO THREW THAT?!" She exploded, crushing the white stick of chalk in her hand as she whipped round, her eyes wild as she looked at each of the girls. Someone had thrown an origami duck at her and she was not willing to let the girls leave the classroom until one of the girls owned up. She bent down and picked up the poorly constructed duck and held it up for the class to see,"WELL?!"

Delia Willow raised her hand, a smug expression on her face, "It was Caitlyn Shepherd, Miss Hardbroom. I saw her making one when she was meant to be writing her lines."

Caitlyn leapt to her feet, "That's a load of bullshit, you little slag-"

"You will stop with that language at once, Caitlyn!" Constance barked as Caitlyn returned to her seat, her pale face flushed. Constance placed the duck on her student's bench and then said in a much softer voice, "Is this your handiwork?"

Caitlyn shook her head. Constance raised an eyebrow.

"Somebody is lying," She announced to the class, "And until someone owns up for throwing a poorly made duck at me then you will all have detention until the end of next month. You will write lines for one hour at the end of the day, "I must be honest and open with my elders" unless someone comes forward now."

And she waited. She waited until the bell for the end of the day rang, listening to the girls' pens scratch in their exercise books as they continued the lines that they had already been set. Nobody raised a hand, none of the girls even cleared their throats.

As the ringing of the bell filled their ears, Constance wrapped on her desk with her knuckles, "Before any of you leave," she called as the girls rose to their feet, "As of Monday you will all be having detention with me until Halloween. If that means you don't take part in the Halloween display so be it. Caitlyn Shepherd," She turned to the petite red head, "For your terrible grasp of the English language you will have another hour of detention with me. You will write lines of "I must control how I speak in front of others" and you will write those for the next week. You may all go."

She could hear the girls grumbling as they left the classroom, muttering their dislike of her and her methods. Personally, Constance knew that by writing lines the girls would come round eventually. She could understand that Amelia may feel that she is being a bit hard on the girls but dishonesty and deception were two things Constance could not abide and until someone owned up she would follow through with her punishment. Patricia and Davina would think she was going over the top, given it was only a paper duck, but it starts with ducks or aeroplanes and ends with something more dangerous like compasses or worse.

Constance returned to the staff room and informed the headmistress about the first years' behaviour. Amelia didn't seem too bothered, trusting Constance's judgment but commenting about her sternness. Patricia was nowhere to be seen. Davina's jaw dropped open in shock.

"That's a bit drastic, Constance." Davina said, picking the base of the knot she had tangled her hair in.

"I don't know how you dare, Davina Bat! You egged them on and left it to me to pick up the pieces. By the way, when was the last time you actually disciplined the girls?"

Davina pushed her seat back, standing up and walking towards Constance. Even on her tip-toes Davina only came up to Constance's shoulders. She shrieked, "I've been teaching far longer than you Constance HARDbroom. I don't need some snooty little girl telling me how to manage a class!" She spun on the spot dramatically and swept over to the stationary cupboard.

The door creaked open and Patricia was sat inside, reading a book. Davina screamed, "YOU'RE IN MY CUPBOARD!" and Patricia hopped out of the cupboard, holding the door for her friend. With a loud huffing noise, Davina slammed the door and Patricia returned to reading her book, taking a seat around the long mahogany table as though she had not even noticed being shrieked at.

"You'll be lucky to get her out of there by Halloween," Amelia stated, taking a jammie dodger from the biscuit tin on the table, "Was it really necessary to be so sharp with the girls?"

Constance nodded, "Oh yes, Amelia. They went too far; attacking me with an origami duck, not paying attention during flying. It may be paper ducks now but one day it could be something a lot more dangerous."

Amelia tucked her chin into her chest, rubbing her forehead, "You do realise what you've done to yourself, don't you?"

With a heavy sigh, Constance nodded again in agreement as she sat down, "Yes. I'm the bad guy now. The girls were moaning about me being a nasty piece of work as they were leaving the classroom."

Patricia piped up from behind her book, "You've made a rod for your own back now, doll."

She could hear Davina saying something incoherently from behind the glass pane of the cupboard. Constance had made a rod for her own back, Patricia was completely right. Even if her outburst was with good reason – the girls _had_ been pushing her and ignoring her - she would have to reap the rewards of what she had done that day for many years to come.

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 **A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter. A big thank you to DreamsInLilac and Princess Sammi for listening to me reminisce about my secondary school Duck Day - this chapter is based on real events that did happen at my school in my second year.**  
 **I hope you enjoyed this update :D**


	13. Anything Can Happen on Halloween

**A/N: Happy Halloween! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Big thank you to DreamsInLilac for a certain inspiration in this chapter (you'll know where).**

* * *

"So what are we deciding on?"

Amelia had called a staff meeting to prepare for the Halloween display. Egbert Hellibore, the Grand Wizard, had written back to Amelia, his response arriving that morning in the mail. He had agreed to attend the event. Both Davina and Patricia were incredibly flustered by the fact, though Davina had not ventured beyond the cupboard since she butted heads with Constance earlier that month. Patricia had pulled her seat so it was next to the cupboard door, so she could translate.

"How about..." She said, "What on Earth does that mean?!" There was a muffled sound from inside the cupboard, "Eye of Toad? Really?" More strange muffling, Patricia rolled her eyes, "Fair enough. Davina thinks we should have her third years singing Eye of Toad for the Grand Wizard when he arrives. Apparently it's his favourite song."

Constance had her head in her hands as she listened to the ridiculous request, though to be fair Patricia's own suggestion hadn't been much better. She had said about having a game of bowling but with humans instead of the pins. This has been greeted with a resounding "No" and a muffle from the cupboard.

"I think we should have a traditional dance with bonfires and maypoles. The girls could get involved with the crafting of decorations and choreographing the dances." Amelia suggested as she sipped a glass of water.

Patricia nodded to herself. Constance wasn't opposed to the idea either. A traditional Samhain celebration rather than the commercialised Halloween display would be a welcome change for the girls and most likely the staff as well. There was no response from Davina as she shuffled around in the cupboard.

"Maypoles are traditionally used for Beltane, aren't they?" Constance asked, remembering her traditional witch's holidays from her days at boarding school.

"What's that?" Asked Patricia, rocking on her chair.

Amelia cleared her throat, "Well traditionally the maypole is only used during Beltane, which is when the veil between the magic realm and the mortal realm is meant to be the thinnest," She said with a nod to Patricia, "But I enjoy the movement of the maypole so I would like it to be part of the Halloween celebration. If that's okay with everyone else," She added quickly, wary of the look on Constance's face. Despite her youth, Constance Hardbroom was proving to be a stick in the mud when it came to traditions and playing by the rules. She really wasn't the breath of fresh air Amelia had expected her to be. However she was efficient and thorough and perhaps that's what she needed more than anything.

"So a Samhain celebration?" Patricia muttered, almost to herself, "Are ye sure the Grand Wizard would like that?"

Amelia nodded frantically, "Oh yes. The embracing of the darkness of the year, throwing our wishes for the new year into the bonfire, hopping over our broomsticks. And we could have a traditional feast with pumpkin pies and apple pies and sherry trifles and-" The staff room echoed with the sound of Amelia's stomach rumbling, "I like the idea. And perhaps we should get the girls involved."

"How?" Patricia asked.

"Well we have them making costumes or making decorations. You have access to a sewing machine, Trish?"

Patricia nodded, knowing where the conversation was headed. Being the Jewellery Design teacher had many perks and access to a sewing machine was one of them. She loved making clothes but found she never quite got the space for her shoulder pads quite right. She had recently started buying her clothes from some of the shops in Nottingham, not too far from the village of Old Noxby just down the road. She couldn't wait to air her newest purchase which would be perfect for a certain costume she had in mind for Halloween.

Constance was looking forward to a taste of tradition but something was bound to go wrong. It always did at Cackle's. With a forced smile at Amelia's idea, Constance picked up her marking that she had placed beside her at breakfast and carried it to the potions lab where her first year class was waiting outside. She unlocked the door and the girls entered in silence. Since their disciplining after the Duck Day fiasco, or Origami-Gate as Patricia called it, the girls had been behaving incredibly well. There was not a single mumbled insult nor was there any back-chat. The first day or so had been tricky but now it was nearly the end of the month and their punishments were coming to an end. They were being more positive about the situation and taking a shine to the idea of hard work and dedication to their studies.

The girls took their seats and Constance took hers behind her desk.

"Now girls," She started, looking at each girl individually. She continued in a thoughtful voice, "I'm happy to tell you that the Grand Wizard, his honour Egbert Hellibore, will be joining us for Halloween this year. Miss Cackle will be arranging a grand feast and celebration in his honour so please be on your best behaviour. Miss Gimlet will have more information for you in regards to dress code but what I will ask of you, if you do decide to make your own costume please pick something appropriate. I want you all to make a good impression on the Grand Wizard." She took a deep breath, gaining her composure, "Now. What I would like you to do today is brew a potion using the ingredients I have laid out in front of you," She zapped her fingers and the ingredients appeared in perfect rows in front of the students who gasped in surprise, "You should brew a voice changing potion. You will need to take the correct measurement of each ingredient and follow the directions in your books."

The girls set to work brewing their potions. Caitlyn's was looking surprisingly good, no doubt aided by her friend Isla who was a very promising student and descended from a family of witches going back to the Witch Trials. The red haired student mixed in her ingredients and then raised her hand.

"What is it, Caitlyn?" Constance asked as she walked around the back of some of the girls' benches.

"Sorry Miss, but I can't identify the Helleborus." Caitlyn said, rifling through the piles of dried plants on her bench. Constance made her way to stand behind Caitlyn.

Delia Willow snapped, "Watch your tongue, Caitlyn Shepherd. Miss, she's insulting the Grand Wizard. There's no such thing as a Helleborus."

Constance's hand fell on a dried out plant stem and she pulled out a rather ornate looking plant with a brilliant white flower, "Actually, Delia, Helleborus is a medicinal flower used commonly to cure stomach upsets. It counteracts the effects of the yarrow in the potion," She added, seeing that Caitlyn was looking up at her, her green eyes wide.

After settling the dispute between her two students, the class soon burst into shrill voices. They were testing the potion. Obviously they were working – rather too well.

"Girls, girls, girls! Please quieten down. I can barely hear myself think."

The girls fell silent immediately as Constance made her way back to the front of the classroom. As she was about to announce to the class the bell rang for the end of lesson and with a huff, she sat down and watched as the first years filtered out and the fourth years filtered in – this group was Amelia's form class. To be honest, the fourth years really looked after themselves. They didn't have a form lesson with the headmistress unless it was vital, but as they were such a mild mannered group it was hardly necessary.

The lesson was just revision so Constance set them to work on practising potions they weren't too confident with. Jennifer Moonshine, the sister of Isla in her own form group, was doing rather well with her transformation potion. She was experimenting with the glittering ice and was turning her friend, Minerva Duncan, into a glistening statue.

It was soon time for break and before Constance had time to clear the chalkboard there was a soft knock at the door and then footsteps heading towards her.

"Miss?" Said an all too familiar voice.

Constance turned around, irritated by the persistent red head. Her forehead was furrowed, "Shouldn't you be enjoying your break, Caitlyn Shepherd?"

Caitlyn tensed her shoulders, "I know I can be a pain and I know that you don't like me very much because I'm useless as a witch but-"

"Quiet," Constance whispered, her expression softening. She had no idea she made Caitlyn feel that way. Yes she was a nuisance, yes she was pretty useless as a witch but she never intended to make the poor girl feel unwanted, "What is it?"

"Well," Caitlyn came closer, "I was wondering if you could give me some help with my potions. I'm really struggling with even the easy ones like the laughter potion and the invisibility one."

Constance gestured for Caitlyn to sit down at the front bench. Her student took the seat normally occupied by her rival, Delia.

"Caitlyn, dear. I am happy to help you with your work. I don't want you to feel that I am willing to let you fail because I'm certainly not. It not only reflects badly on me as a teacher if I allow you to struggle but it also reflects badly on the school," She took a deep breath and continued, "When would you like to start?"

Caitlyn shrugged, "Whenever you have free time, Miss Hardbroom."

Constance thought for a moment, then said, "How about after half term we start some extra tuition every Thursday at two o'clock? You have a free lesson then, as do I."

Caitlyn nodded, a smile lighting her pale face. She skipped out of the potions lab, soon followed by Constance who was making her way to the staff room.

X

Davina had emerged from the cupboard for the first time since Duck Day. She was covered in a thick layer of dust and had what appeared to be cream and tea leaves down the front of her lace sweater. Patricia had coaxed her out with the promise of a fruit salad jam packed with kiwi fruit. She came out of the cupboard like a rabbit popping its head out of its warren for the first time after a harsh winter.

"How are you feeling, babe?" Patricia asked softly, handing her friend the glass bowl, "Now you're out of the cupboard?"

Davina huffed, shovelling a large spoonful of double cream into her mouth before saying, "Harshbrush is an absolute liability, speaking to the girls like that."

Patricia smiled, "Well she was only doing the right thing I suppose, and you were egging the girls on a bit."

She took another mouthful, this time of fruit salad, "If by that you mean stimulating their creativity and helping them to harmonise with the celestial energies of the universe then perhaps I was. But that little brat has no right-"

The staff room door crashed open and Constance entered, taking her usual seat. She poured herself a cup of tea, "It's good to see you finally out of the cupboard. I was beginning to wonder whether Amelia needed to have a hammock installed in there for you."

"REALLY?!" Davina shrieked, scurrying back into the cupboard. Patricia picked up her fruit salad, which she had left carelessly on the table, and knocked on the cupboard door. The door opened slightly and a tiny hand snatched the fruit salad back.

Constance rolled her eyes, "I did nothing wrong, did I?"

Patricia sat back down again with a solemn expression, straightening her shoulder pads. She leant towards the cupboard to try and understand what Davina was saying, "Davina feels that all you want is to eat a llama covered in raspberry drizzle-"

"NO! She wants to cause drama and make me miserable!" Came a completely coherent, shrill voice from inside the cupboard.

"Shame, I quite like raspberry drizzle," Patricia smirked, pouring herself a fresh cup of tea.

Constance couldn't quite believe what was going on. She got out of her seat and marched over to the cupboard. She yanked the door open and found Davina filling her face with fruit salad.

"Get out of the cupboard."

"No!"

"Get out of the cupboard!" She said more forcefully.

Davina did nothing. She continued to eat her kiwi fruit. Constance grabbed the batty chanting mistress by the arm and dragged her out of the cupboard, still clinging on to her fruit salad. She plonked her down on the chair roughly and took her fruit salad from her.

"Davina, will you calm down and keep a level head!"

"But- but-"

"No buts, I need for you to stay calm so when the Grand Wizard _does_ arrive he doesn't think the school is run by hysterical claustrophiles!"

X

The next week came around at lightening speed and soon it was the day of the Halloween display. The girls had prepared the decorations but had decided against costumes, preferring their traditional robes for the Grand Wizard's visit. Constance had to admit that she was relieved about this as she ironed her own robes under the watchful eye of Morgana who was perched on her bedside table. The little kitten's eyes were going backwards and forwards as though she was watching a tennis match while she observed Constance trying to iron out the creases of her robes.

Constance had heard rumours that Patricia had made an adjustment to her own robes earlier that morning. Though she would find the adjustment completely ridiculous, she couldn't fight back a little twinge of excitement as she wondered what changes Patricia had made.

Morgana miaowed at Constance, blinking at her with her olive green eyes. Constance placed the iron down and walked over to the kitten.

"What is it?" She asked the little kitten as she bent down to look her in the eye. Morgana patted her cheek with her paw, purring loudly. Sometimes it felt like the tiny kitten was trying to speak to her. Morgana looked over at the door and scampered over, her pads clicking against the stone floor. She pushed her paws under the door and started batting wildly.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Constance walked over and opened the door.

"Morgana, there's nothing there- Come back!" Constance cried as the kitten ran off down the corridor. She raced after her as Morgana sped around the corner heading towards Patricia's room. She squeezed through the door which was ajar and into the Jewellery Design teacher's bedroom.

Constance's eyes were wide as she caught up with the tiny kitten.

"Morgana!"

There was a crashing noise from inside the bedroom and Constance rushed in, seeing that Morgana had knocked over all of Patricia's perfume bottles. She tiptoed off the cluttered dressing table and looked innocently up at Constance as she sat down at her feet. Constance smiled slightly, picking up the kitten and holding her in front of her face.

"What are you like?" She laughed as she cast a spell to tidy up the perfume bottles, cautiously trying not to disturb the rest of the chaos of Patricia's bedroom. She carried the kitten back to her own room where she finished ironing her robes. They were still hot from the iron as she put them on. She brushed her hair out of the bun and put her hat on the crown of her head.

With Morgana sat on her shoulder, she folded her arms and materialised in the entrance hall where Amelia was ready and waiting for her with both of their broomsticks. Davina, who had started her descent down the stairs, peered over the banister and cried, "You have hair!"

Constance looked up at Davina, confused, "Yes, I have hair."

Davina skipped down the remaining stairs and pulled out a strange black device from inside the pocket of her white, floaty dress. It flashed brilliant white, dazzling Constance as she blinked away the blue and purple lights in her eyes.

As Constance blinked profusely, Amelia asked Davina, "So what exactly are you wearing?"

Davina gave a little twirl, holding the bottom of the skirt, "Do you like it? I'm meant to be Kate Bush."

Now able to see clearly, Constance rolled her eyes, "You do realise, Davina, that we decided against costumes?" She commented, looking from the top of Davina's terribly crimped hair, to her tight fitting white dress down to her yellow clogs.

"I didn't get that memo!" Came a rough voice from behind them. It was Patricia. All heads turned to see Patricia Gimlet in her dress robes. She had shorted them and added a leopard print trim around the edges. Their eyes grew wider as she dropped these robes. She was dressed from head to toe in black; fishnets, chains, eyeliner and copious amounts of different brightly coloured eyeshadows. She was wearing a black wig that had been spiked up in all directions and dark lipstick.

Constance closed her eyes in disbelief, waiting for Amelia to say something. Thankfully she did, "And... who are you supposed to be?"

Patricia came into the light, her thigh high biker boots rattling as she walked, "Siouxsie Sioux, you know the Queen of Punk?"

"Oh my God..." Constance muttered to herself, pressing a hand to her forehead. She was really surrounded by fools. "Siouxsie" and "Kate" looked admirably at each other's outfits, commenting on the features as the students made their way downstairs. Davina looked like a badly made up member of Charlie's Angels while Patricia looked like she'd been smacked across the face with black eyeliner.

The girls had never seen Constance's hair down before so there were a lot of comments about her appearance, much like Davina's comment earlier. At the look on their potion mistress' face, however, they quietened and filed out into the courtyard. As the final students left the school, the staff followed, taking off into the sky with their cats sitting on the ends of their brooms.

Constance's hair streamed behind her with the speed she was travelling. She followed Amelia, leading her first years as they descended into a clearing occupied by a tall man with a long, grey beard tucked into his belt and billowing purple robes embroidered with gold stars and moons. Constance dismounted her broom, Morgana leaping painfully onto her shoulder again as her feet came into contact with the forest floor of cracked twigs and dry, crispy grass.

"Your Honour, how wonderful to have you back at Cackle's for Halloween, or should I say Samhain?" Amelia simpered, offering the Grand Wizard her hand. He smiled at her, but then his eyes fell on Constance and he dropped Amelia's hand at once and rushed over to the young witch. Constance stepped backwards.

 _What on Earth is he doing?_ She asked herself as the Grand Wizard came closer. She could hear Morgana making a strange whirring noise like a broken hoover, she was obviously trying to growl. Her claws dug into her shoulder as she arched her back and hissed.

"Hello young lady, you must be a new student."

Amelia piped up, "Actually she's the replacement of Millicent, who I believe may actually be here this evening."

The Grand Wizard looked down at Constance's chest and said, "Ah yes of course. Dear Millicent, what a lovely lady she is." If his eyes lingered any longer on her chest Constance would have smacked him straight across the face. Thankfully his eyes lifted back up to Amelia before Constance's hand whipped up and around his jaw, and he greeted the blushing Patricia and Davina, both still in costume. The students were laughing at the sight of their more eccentric teachers.

"Yes, Your Honour. This is Constance Hardbroom." Amelia said, pulling Luna off the end of her broomstick. Luna was far too robust to be sitting on Amelia's shoulder like Morgana was sitting on Constance's.

The Grand Wizard came back and held out a hand to Constance who took it politely, though she could feel a sneer twitching at the corner of her lips. He pressed his furry lips to the back of her hand and then looked up at her... well, at her chest again as he straightened his back.

As he looked up the air seemed to go cold. A woman with coiffed dark hair and a black cloak appeared behind Patricia and Davina who shuddered, looking at each other with a knowing look. As their heads turned they jumped in unison. Davina was gasping for air, while Patricia laughed at her friend's reaction.

"Ah, Miss Monkshood! You've arrived." The Grand Wizard said happily, greeting the retired teacher.

Millicent's expression remained impassive as she greeted The Grand Wizard, "Mr Hellibore, how lovely to see you again."

The students who were familiar with the formidable former deputy headmistress straightened their backs and feigned good behaviour as they stood in small crowds.

"And what on Earth are you two wearing?" She snapped at Patricia and Davina. Davina flopped on the floor with a high pitched squeal.

Patricia blinked, looking down at her friend, "Costumes."

"Of what? A dominatrix and a Christmas fairy?"

Constance could feel a rage bubbling inside of her at this woman's dismissive and obnoxious attitude. Even though she felt the same about their ridiculous outfits, she could see it was hurting them. She had to say something, "Patricia is Siouxsie Sioux and Davina is Kate Bush," She said sharply.

Millicent blinked dazedly at her, "Excuse me? Did I ask you, Pipsqueak? I was asking these two idiots!"

"You dare-" Constance started, glaring at Millicent.

Amelia stepped between the two women, attempting to break the tension, "Perhaps we should enjoy the celebrations?"

Constance and Millicent scowled at one another as they moved away from each other. They walked towards the long feast table that had been summoned to the clearing. On top of it were elaborate roast chickens stuffed with cranberries, pumpkin pies, gold flagons full of mead and Amelia's favourite - lemon cheesecake.

After the feast, which was wolfed down by the girls, Hellibore insisted on giving a speech. He rose up from his seat and swept over to the bonfire. His shadow danced on the forest floor as he spoke.

"Thank you for inviting me to your wonderful feast. You always make me feel so welcome here at Cackle's," Patricia sighed forlornly as she listened to the Grand Wizard, "Being of such high standing in the wizarding world it is sometimes harder for me to appreciate the necessary but inferior skills of witches but I must say, Miss Cackle, that the feast you arranged in my honour was quite something..."

"Who does he think he is?" Constance hissed into Amelia's ear. Amelia laughed under her breath.

"He's always like this."

"... And how lovely it is to see all you young ladies looking so content. Your teachers must be teaching you well, of course not as well as my staff at Camelot but beggars can't be choosers."

Constance ground her teeth. The staff at Cackle's inferior to those at Camelot? The cheek of it!

Amelia could feel Constance's rage so she got to her feet and stopped the Grand Wizard, "You have a fair point, Your Honour. Perhaps, however, we shall get on with the rest of the celebration?"

The Grand Wizard bowed his head and the girls cheered with relief. They were obviously getting bored of being lectured by the obnoxious know-it-all.

The witches got to their feet and began to circle the bonfire to the sound of tribal drums played by Davina and Patricia. Constance, Amelia, Millicent and the students danced, throwing their fears and regrets into the flames which crackled and seared as they danced. Constance felt a surge of joy fill her for the first time as she cascaded her worries into the bonfire. It hissed as she followed the other witches, the drum beat echoing in her ears. It was inside her heart, her reason for existing. They span and span around the fire, chanting and singing under the full moon, speckled with the floating embers of the flames as they rose into the dark, star-filled sky.

The sun rose over the thick forest casting a shadow on the clearing as the last embers of the fires died. The crowd of witches were sat on logs, some had fallen asleep on the forest floor. The girls were still running around. Constance and Amelia were sat on a small, broken tree trunk. Amelia was holding a half-empty bottle of red wine, offering it to Constance who took it and had a sip.

"You know somethin'?" Amelia slurred, wrapping an arm around Constance's shoulders as the young witch laughed to herself, watching her black kitten chase a dried brown leaf around the clearing, "I think you're lovely. Really, I do! Never be alone, _hic_ , in this world, Constance. Do you hear me?"

Constance giggled to herself as she sipped the wine Amelia handed her, "I won't be alone, Amelia. I'll have you and I'll have my thousand and one cats in my cottage." She took another mouthful of wine, but the bottle was empty. She shook it in confusion, "Looks like we're out of alcohol."

Amelia wiggled her fingers and the bottle filled up again, "Abracadabra!" She laughed loudly with a little snort. She pressed a warm hand onto Constance's shoulder, steadying herself on her log. Then she coughed, regaining her composure, "Promise me, Constance."

"Promise, _hic_ , you what?" Constance asked as she passed Amelia the bottle of wine.

"Promise me... you'll never be an old spinster." Amelia said seriously, her voice sounding more sober.

Constance snorted loudly, bursting into hysterical laughter, "Amelia, really?"

There was a sound of cracking twigs from behind them and Patricia pushed herself up, her makeup smeared all over her face, her wig which had been clipped into her hair hanging around her shoulders like a furry black cape, "Ha' ye seen D'vina?"

There was another cracking of twigs and a mass of thick, brown bird-nest-like hair rose from the ground. Her hair looked like that of Marie Antoinette bundled on top of her head. There was black lipstick all over her mouth, "What happened?" She squeaked.

Amelia filled in the gaps for her, "After Millicent and the Grand Wizard left the fire went out and to keep each other warm you and Patricia cuddled up. Things got a bit amorous and I'm sure you can fill in the rest from there."

The two friends looked at each other with wide eyes, "You mean-"

Constance nodded, "You did."

"But we're not-"

Amelia smiled at the two friends as she stood up, turning to Constance. She put her hand into her pocket and drew out a small vial of violet potion, "Here, drink this. It'll sober you up so we can get the girls back to school safely, but you may still get a hangover."

Constance took it and sipped it slowly, feeling the sweet taste of lavender fill her mouth. The dizziness that the alcohol had caused left her and she felt normal again. She got to her feet, watching as Amelia also drank the potion and together they gathered the girls (and Davina and Patricia) and took off on their broomsticks, over the forest and back to Cackle's Academy.

"No one is to rise before mid-day. Thank you girls. That was a wonderful example you set in front of the Grand Wizard," Amelia announced as the girls all filed up the wooden staircase. Constance stood by Amelia who looked up at her, "I was wondering if you wanted to go for something to eat over half term, at the local village pub?"

Constance smiled down at Amelia, "I would like that."

And with that they went their separate ways; Amelia to her office, Constance up to her room with the sleepy Morgana curled up in her arms.

 _The next fortnight should be interesting_ , she thought, as she changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed.

Bats were flying like tiny black shadows over the silent forest, squeaking and chirping, returning home to roost. With a yawn, Constance rolled over and wrapped an arm around Morgana, feeling herself drifting away on a soft blanket of clouds into the realm of sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this update. Next week we may be getting a little visit from a character we haven't seen for a little bit. Until then, have a lovely day/afternoon/evening and Happy Halloween!**


	14. What You Had, And What You Lost

It was the third day of the half term holiday and Constance had returned to her cottage to do some cleaning. She was currently sat with the radio on in the kitchen reading a book, waiting for the plates to finish soaking - she had left such a mess since the last time she was home that she needed to do something about it. A song by David Bowie was on the radio, an artist Constance didn't mind too much. His work was artistic albeit a bit eccentric at times.

As she turned the page of her book (War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, a book she had borrowed from Davina of all people!) there was a knock at the front door. She walked through the archway leading into the living room and opened the front door. It was Mrs Cosie and Amelia.

"Oh hello," She said, welcoming them both in. Mrs Cosie pulled Constance into a tight hug, Constance patted her shoulder slowly.

"It's been too long!" Mrs Cosie said theatrically, relinquishing her hold on Constance, "How have you been? Amelia has told me that you're doing well at work."

Constance nodded as she closed the door, looking at the two older ladies. She invited them to sit as she sat on the arm of her blue armchair in the window, "I'm not just saying this because you're here Amelia, but I honestly love my job. Those girls mean the world to me, as annoying as they can be sometimes-"

"And they can be!" Amelia added, obviously thinking about the first years who were the most troublesome group they had ever had.

"Oh yes, you were saying. Amelia was telling me all about the duck incident, dear," Mrs Cosie explained, "Apparently she thinks you dealt with it very well."

Amelia smiled wearily at her friend. It was obvious that she just wanted to relax and she couldn't relax in the home that her husband had died in so long ago.

Constance, however, didn't take that hint and stood up, "I've only just realised I haven't offered either of you a cup of tea, would you like one?"

Mrs Cosie beamed, "I would love a-"

"No, Constance, dear. We will be fine. Gloria, why don't we make our way back to the tea room and let Constance get on with what she's doing. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget – two o'clock," she said as she made her way to the door. Mrs Cosie was less keen to leave but followed Amelia through the door, leaving Constance to her cleaning.

Constance brewed herself a cup of tea and returned to War and Peace. It was actually a very good book – she was just up to the part where Count Bezukhov was on his deathbed so she kept reading, waiting for her pans and plates to soak up the soap so they were easier to clean. She could have used magic to do the cleaning but she was enjoying having a more leisurely day. She never really had those at the school and given that she would be spending the second half of the half term with the girls in the Lake District she would need to have a bit of rest and relaxation. She had seen a couple of the girls running around in the village but they hadn't greeted her so she presumed they hadn't noticed her.

The half term holiday was a slight respite half way through the winter term at Cackle's which went from September to the end of January. After that there was a whole month off until March. When the girls returned in March for the summer term they had another half term holiday in May and then went for their summer holidays in August. All half term holidays were spent at the school but as there were no lessons only a few members of staff were required; the kitchen staff and two teachers. Of course Davina and Patricia had been left in charge. Amelia wanted some time to rest, even though she was staying in the castle herself, and Constance was needing a bit of time out after Halloween.

She hadn't admitted it to Amelia but the potion she had taken to sober up had given her a terrible hangover the next day and for many days afterwards. Constance could have sworn she had taken nearly a whole packet of headache tablets within a two day period and had drank her weight in tea. She was over it now but when they were making the decisions about who was to stay at the school Constance was in no fit state to watch the girls – her eyes were bloodshot, her head was throbbing, she felt like the room was spinning and as though she was at a high altitude and her ears wouldn't un-pop. Amelia had advised her to stay in bed and sleep it off but Constance being Constance she had to teach her classes.

From that moment on, Constance had sworn to herself to abstain from alcohol of any form; wine, spirits, cider, lager. She couldn't risk that happening again, not if she wanted to make a good impression on Amelia and become deputy head. She could still feel the drum beat inside of her from Samhain night when she had been spinning with Amelia, both drinking the wine that had been served with the feast. They had drained and refilled the bottle too many times but by the time they were ready to go back to the school they were both lost causes.

After she cleaned the dishes and scrubbed the floors it was time for bed. Morgana had already made herself quite at home on her pillow. Constance smiled at the sleeping kitten as she got changed into her pyjamas. She climbed into bed, tucking her hair out of the way and soon she was fast asleep.

The next morning she woke up rearing to go. When she had a shower the water was stuck on the cold setting so the friction from drying her skin was a welcome relief. She towel dried her hair and then clipped it out of the way. Constance then had to pick out a nice outfit for herself - she had grown so accustom to wearing her black dresses that the sight of colour in her wardrobe at home was quite foreign. She pulled out a white blouse, a brown cardigan and a pair of stone coloured trousers and hooked them over the corner of the wardrobe door while she got ready. She had decided to wear her hair in a more messy bun lower down her head. Soft ringlets of hair fell from it, it was quite a pretty hairstyle but far too frivolous for when she was teaching.

Morgana was still fast asleep on her pillow when she left the bedroom. She kissed her softly on the forehead and then made her way downstairs and out towards the local pub, known as The Acorn.

Amelia recommended the food, apparently the hunter's chicken was quite nice so Constance would probably have that. She pushed the glass paned door open and was greeted by the smell of roast dinner. Her mouth filled with saliva at the delicious smell of gravy and mashed potatoes and cooked meat, but she would never be able to eat it all.

The Acorn pub was a cosy place with a roaring fire burning at one end of the main room and a selection of booths beneath the brightly lit bay windows. The bar was opposite the entrance so it was easy access to the locals.

Constance found a quiet booth in the corner with plump red cushions scattered along the seats. She sat down and stared at the door, waiting for Amelia to enter. It was five minutes to and Amelia hadn't arrived, perhaps she was being held up by the girls at the academy.

The door swung open. It wasn't Amelia, but a young woman wearing tight fitting pink jeans, a military jacket and her pillar box red hair spiked up at the back. The young woman looked over at Constance and smiled.

"Fancy seeing you here, Miss Hardbroom. Do you want a drink?"

Constance shook her head, still staring at the door. Emma ordered herself a beer and sat at a table not too far away from where Constance was sitting. Constance wondered what exactly Emma was doing at the pub. Was she meeting James, perhaps?

The door didn't open when the wall clock above the bar struck two. Amelia must be running late, she told herself. Emma however, had other ideas as she stood up from her table next to the bar and wandered over to Constance.

"The person I'm meant to be meeting hasn't turned up yet. Mind if I sit with you for company until they arrive?" She asked, helping herself to a seat before Constance could protest, "Who are you meeting here?"

"The headmistress. We're meant to be talking about the school trip that's happening next week."

Emma furrowed her dark eyebrows, "Miss Cackle?"

Constance frowned, "No, Margaret Thatcher. Of course Miss Cackle!" She said dryly, watching as Emma sipped her beer.

Emma looked taken aback at Constance's comment but cleared her throat, "I was actually meant to be meeting her here as well."

 _What would Miss Cackle want with Emma?_ Constance asked herself as she looked at the deep brown eyes in front of her. _Wait a moment!,_ "You don't suppose she's set this up do you?"

Emma snorted into her beer, laughing like a hyena until she composed herself and the waves of disbelief left her, "It's a funny coincidence isn't it?"

Constance smirked. Indeed it was a very funny coincidence that Amelia had been so forceful in trying to get her to speak to Emma and her colleague, James, and now both Constance and Emma were sat in a pub waiting to speak to the headmistress about possibly two separate topics.

"She's set us up," Giggled Emma, "The crafty cow!"

"Watch your mouth, don't say that about Amelia. She's a good friend of mine." Constance said in her militarian voice, "I'm sure she's just running late and double booked herself."

Sadly Constance was wrong and by three o'clock she was still sat with Emma in the booth. Amelia hadn't arrived, nor had their been a message from anyone behind the bar. They had indeed been set up. That interfering old witch! Constance was fuming, she could feel her blood pressure rising as she thought about how she would confront Amelia about it after she left the pub. Scenarios of different conversations ran through her head as her mind raced.

"Do you want me to buy you a drink? A platonic drink, no funny business," Emma added quickly, seeing that Constance was about to protest. Rolling her eyes, Constance agreed. Emma walked over to the bar and came back with a blackcurrant lemonade, "I thought you would prefer that over alcohol."

"Thank you. I have actually given up alcohol after what happened at Halloween."

Emma smiled, "You'll drink again, mark my words. The amount of times when I was at uni I swore to never drink again and here I am with a beer," she laughed to herself. Constance was intrigued.

"Which university did you go to?"

Emma sipped her beer, "I went to Longwinter's Witch Training College."

Emma was a witch? Constance had no idea! She looked nothing like a traditional witch with her alternative dress sense and all of her piercings. The nightlife at Longwinter's was apparently the best. Weirdsister was much more tame, but there was still a little bit of a nightlife in Cambridge.

"How about you?"

"Weirdsister." Constance answered with a deep sigh.

Emma sucked her teeth, "You must be a bright spark then, going to Weirdsister. How did you get in?"

Constance explained about her entrance exams and her scholarship from her previous witch academy. Emma was very interested, asking questions about her teachers. Constance tip-toed around certain teachers but she spoke in great detail about... "Professor Shakeshaft is a lovely man. He did so much for me - he taught me everything I know about potion making. Honestly, if I could thank him for what he's done for me-"

"I'm sure he knows," Emma said, "Do I have to call you Miss Hardbroom, or do you actually have a first name I can use?"

"Constance." She replied, "Just call me Constance. I'm not teaching at the moment, nor am I in front of any of the girls so just call me that."

Emma smiled kindly, "Lovely, well thank you." Then she said, "You know – James really likes you. He thought you were very beautiful. He just kept getting cornered by that crazy Geordie woman so he couldn't say anything."

Constance blushed, "Patricia? I had noticed. It was quite funny watching her actually."

Clearing her throat, Emma continued, "Do you like James? Or is he not your type?"

"Well," Constance had to think about this one. She had never actually been with a man; never kissed, never done anything like that. Her only experience had been with her old tutor, which had been horrific and enough to put her off romantic relationships for life, however, "He is alright looking, but I'm not looking for anything at the moment."

Emma looked quite hopeful at this, "Why?"

Constance furrowed her eyebrows, "That is none of your business."

Her shoulders sinking, Emma sighed quietly, "Sorry. I guess I shouldn't have asked."

Feeling slightly guilty at the sight of her expression, Constance placed a hand on Emma's shoulder, "It's okay. You weren't to know."

Emma seemed to perk up again at her touch and returned to her chatty self. She asked about her time at Cackle's, her experience with teaching. They ordered food (Emma's treat) and Constance had the hunter's chicken, recommended by Amelia. It was very nice but a bit too cheesy for her taste. Emma had a beef burger. It looked far too greasy but she seemed to enjoy it. They shared stories of students and of university, laughing at each other's anecdotes. Soon it was time for the pub to close.

"As if it's half eleven already!" Emma said loudly as they stepped outside into the crisp, autumnal air, "Come on, I'll walk you home. Can't have a pretty lady like you walking around in the dark streets by herself, even in a ghost town like this one."

Constance smiled at the compliment as she led Emma back to the cottage. It was pitch black inside. She pushed her key into the door and turned to look at Emma, "Would you like to come in?"

Emma nodded happily, a broad smile lighting her heart-shaped face. Constance unlocked the front door of the cottage, Emma following her. They were still chuckling about the stories they had shared in the pub. Even though Amelia had been quite devious Constance was thankful for it. She hadn't laughed this much in years.

"So this is your place," Emma smiled brightly as she looked around the living room, "I love it."

Constance appreciated her kind words, "It's not much but it's home." She said softly as she sat down on the long green sofa. Emma took this as an invitation and sat down beside her.

"Do you not have a telly?"

Shaking her head, Constance said, "I enjoy books. I'm not home enough to warrant having a television set." Emma nodded in understanding, brushing her hair off her face as she clicked her fingers, summoning a bottle of white wine. She screwed off the cap and took a sip, offering some to Constance. She smiled and drank a tiny mouthful and passed it back, "I guess you were right."

"About what?" Emma asked, taking a mouthful of wine herself.

"It wouldn't be long till I'm drinking again!" Constance laughed loudly. She felt Emma's hand stroking her upper arm as she laughed. Her fingers were teasing the material of her cardigan. Constance returned back to Earth after her outburst of laughter and looked at Emma, her eyes narrow, "What are you doing?"

Emma smiled slightly, "I think you're beautiful, Constance," she whispered as she stroked Constance's arm, "I know you aren't wanting a relationship but I just wanted you to know."

Constance lingered for a moment and then placed a hand on top of Emma's, "I thought you said James was interested in me, not you."

Emma continued to stroke Constance's arm, her head leant to one side as she considered her words, "That was just to find out if you were like me."

"What does that mean?" Constance asked. Her questions were answered as she felt Emma's face growing closer. She didn't fight it, she had no idea how to react as she felt the gentle brush of her lips against her own. She placed a hand on Emma's cheek, gently caressing her bottom lip as iron butterflies flew around in her stomach. Emma's kisses became more forceful as she pushed Constance down on the sofa. Constance's breath caught in her throat and she moaned softly into the kiss.

"I want you," Emma whispered, placing kisses on Constance's neck, sucking her earlobe, "I want you."

Constance's moans grew louder as Emma cupped her breasts, returning her lips to Constance's. Constance wanted to feel Emma's body, she wanted to hold her. She ran her fingers through Emma's red hair, wrapping her legs around her waist. Emma's hands were stroking her stomach.

Constance could feel a pressure building inside of her, between her legs as she felt Emma's hands exploring her body, her hand rubbing the fabric of Constance's trousers. She spread her legs wider as she stroked Emma's back. As she opened her eyes, however, it wasn't Emma she saw.

"GET OFF ME!" She screamed, pushing the old crone away from her.

"What's wrong?" Mistress Broomhead asked, dusting off her black velvet dress and adjusting her hat, "I thought you wanted this."

"Leave me alone! Get out!" Constance cried, trying to find some way of getting away from her horrid tutor. She closed her eyes, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed. She backed against the wall, sliding down it, "Go away!"

"Constance," Mistress Broomhead's footsteps were moving towards her and her cold, bony hand pressed onto her shoulder, "Calm down."

Constance wiped her eyes, looking up to see that it was no longer Mistress Broomhead that stood above her, but Emma. She took a deep shuddering breath, watching as Emma approached her.

"What the fuck just happened to you?" Emma asked, kneeling down beside Constance, "Are you okay?" She tried to hold her but Constance pushed her away.

"I think you should go."

Emma didn't need to be told twice. She straightened herself up, running a hand through her messy red hair as she left the cottage, the door clicking shut behind her.

Constance sobbed into her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as she rocked herself gently. She could still feel Mistress Broomhead's... no, Emma's lips on her ear. She stroked it softly, trying to remove the sensation. It was obvious that she would never be happy, she would never be able to fall in love, to be intimate, never be able to feel the pleasure that people raved about without seeing that horrid woman lying on top of her; her icy cold breath rattling in her ear as she stroked her, making her moan when she knew she shouldn't, teasing her when she knew it was wrong for her to cry out, moaning as the acidic tongue massaged her intimacy.

There was a squeaky miaow from the kitchen and a little black shadow wandered into the room, brushing against Constance's legs, "I'll only have you, won't I?" She sniffed, stroking Morgana's back which arched into her touch, "I want to go back to the school," she told the kitten.

She had soon packed her bags and collected her broomstick. Morgana was tightly wrapped around her shoulders as she walked into the night and towards the forest beyond which was the school. The gate creaked open as she entered it. The castle was in total darkness except for one window – the staff room.

Constance discarded of her broomstick in the broom shed and sent her suitcase upstairs using magic. She walked into the staff room, unable to hold her tears back any longer as she turned the door handle.

"Oh my dear, whatever is the matter?" Amelia's voice echoed in her ears as she collapsed, Morgana leaping from her shoulders. Amelia caught her as she fell and she wept into Amelia's chest, deep shuddering sobs consuming her. She was unable to speak. Amelia held her, rocking her gently. She placed a kiss on her forehead, "Oh dear. This is all my fault, isn't it?"

Constance shook her head, "It- it was..." Her voice disappeared again as she felt another wave of hysteria wash over her. Rivers of tears washed down her face as Amelia held her, "Broomhead."

Amelia looked at Constance, "What about her?"

Constance needed to tell her. She needed to say something, "When I was at W-w-weirdsister College... She-she-she..." She heaved a massive sob, feeling as though she was going to be sick as the words left her lips, "She raped me."

Finally it all made sense to Amelia. The lack of a partner, the self harming, the distancing. She didn't want to grow close to anyone because of her past. She wrapped her arms tightly around Constance, giving her a squeeze. She kissed her forehead, "She will never, ever hurt you again. If she comes anywhere near you again I'll rip her limb from limb. She didn't turn up today did she?"

Constance didn't know what the answer was. She told Amelia through her sobs what had happened with Emma and the episode when things were becoming more heated. She had seen Mistress Broomhead standing where Emma should have been, holding her like Emma should have been. She didn't know if Mistress Broomhead had actually been there or if it was all in her head. Amelia held her tightly, rocking her backwards and forwards. She stroked her hair, blotted her cheeks and wiped away her tears.

"Perhaps it would be best for you to stay in the castle until you are over this," Amelia whispered as Constance's breathing became more steady.

Constance knew she was right. She wasn't safe by herself. At any moment Mistress Broomhead could appear and hurt her the same way she had done on that fateful day a million years ago. She could still feel those cold, bony fingers crawling up her thigh, whispering in her ears about how superior she was to the other girls and that what her tutor was doing to her was the only way she could learn. She choked back a sob, resting her head on Amelia's chest.

"I swear to the Gods, Constance, she will never harm you again."


	15. A Hard Night's Sleep

**So today is a Tuesday and I know I normally upload on a Saturday but as the next chapter is the second half of this one I felt it was necessary to update this fic twice in one week. I hope you enjoy this chapter. A big thank you to Dreamsinlilac for going over a few details with me :D**

* * *

A long white coach drove through the wooden gates of the school. Constance gazed out of the staff room window as it moved across the gritty, cobblestone courtyard.

"It's here." She stated, turning to look at her colleagues.

Davina, Amelia and Patricia were all packed up, ready to go onto the coach. The students were waiting in the entrance hall with their rucksacks filled with their personal belongings. Amelia had forbidden anyone bringing their cats so Morgana had been left in the care of Mrs Tapioca, the school cook, as well as the second, third and fourth years. It would be complete chaos when they got back, Constance predicted.

Amelia had stated that she didn't want anyone dressing in anything that could get muddy quickly so she had gone out and bought Constance a pair of jeans from a charity shop and had persuaded Patricia to part with one of her hoodies. She was so uncomfortable, the scent of Patricia's overpowering perfume hanging in her nostrils. When the girls saw her they looked at her as though she was mad.

"Is there a problem?" She asked, stepping out into the entrance hall and looking up the staircase at the line of students.

Caitlyn smirked into her scarf, her long red hair hanging down her back in a ponytail. She looked back up at Constance.

Patricia stepped out of the staff room wearing a pair of wide sunglasses and a zebra print fur hat. She had an oversized black handbag hanging on one arm and she was pushing her bright pink suitcase with the other.

"Is that really practical?" Amelia asked, looking at everyone else in the hall who was either carrying a rucksack on their back or had hold of one, ready to put it in the overhead storage in the coach.

"Amelia, I have a lot of sh- things that I need. I don't wake up looking this flawless."

"Nobody said you did," Constance muttered under her breath, tucking her neck into the hoodie.

Amelia called all the girls out of the entrance hall and out into the courtyard. After the standard register check had been performed everyone climbed into the coach, stocking their rucksacks in the overhead compartments. Patricia stored her suitcase in the storage area near the wheels of the coach. Everyone took their seats; the girls sitting where they liked (as it was a rather large coach), Davina and Patricia sitting at the back and Constance and Amelia sitting behind the driver. The driver, an older gentleman called Stephen, was a rather tall, thickset man with wavy silver hair and a kind face. He had deep blue eyes and slightly tanned skin on his arms from his time behind the wheel.

"To the lake district, ladies?" He called back to the girls as he turned the engine over.

The girls chorused, "Yeah!"

And off they went. The drive out of the village was stressful. The narrow road through caused concern for the cars parked on the road but somehow they managed. Soon they were on the motorway, watching the world go by. Rolling countryside sped beside them as they drove, enclosed by cars on either side. Stephen had put the radio on for the girls and they were singing along to a band called Adam and the Ants. There was nothing dandy nor was their anything romantic about their music. To Constance it was meaningless noise; the thundering of drums, the rasping of a guitar, the cawing of a tuneless voice.

Amelia was deeply into her book, a book she was given by her late husband called _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , one of Constance's favourites from when she was growing up. She pressed her forehead against the window and closed her eyes, feeling the cold, moist glass against her skin. Her mind wandered as she tried to sleep. She fought off the thought of Emma for all she could see when she imagined her porcelain face above her was Mistress Broomhead's glowering, twisted face.

" _You've been causing trouble again, Constance," She hissed, gently tapping the riding crop against her palm, "What have you been doing?"_

 _Constance sat in a chair in her tutor's office, listening to the repetitive sound of her heels clicking against the cold floor as she paced back and forth, "I don't know what you mean, Mistress Broomhead."_

 _Mistress Broomhead chuckled, "Don't play the fool with me. I know that you've been trying to catch the eyes of some of the boys. How are you meant to become a powerful witch if you sink to such lows for attention?"_

 _Constance had no idea what she was talking about – what boys? She may have been referring to the dress she had been wearing the other day, a long white one. It had started raining during the day while they were out doing a spot of herb picking for potions class so her dress had become rather transparent, though Constance had amended this almost immediately._

" _Such insolent behaviour needs to be punished. Bend over the desk," Mistress Broomhead ordered, whacking her riding crop against the mahogany desk. At the sound, Constance did as she was bidden, so used to these regular beatings. The lashes that had been left by each meeting had scarred the back of her thighs, though the scars she had inflicted on to herself were the ones Broomhead would never see, would never be interested in._

 _She ran the cool leather handle up her thigh which made Constance shudder slightly. She felt sick._

 _The first strike – she was numb to the pain now. She no longer cried out as she had done before. The force of the riding crop created a breeze, cool against her backside as again and again it hit her. She remained silent until Mistress Broomhead stopped. She hooked a bony hand beneath Constance's skirt and began to stroke her inner thigh, her claw-like fingers slowly rising until-_

"Constance," a voice roused her from her little nap. She blinked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"What is it?" She yawned. She stretched, groaning slightly.

"I don't like this part – is he going to kill Tom Robinson?"

Constance's eyes widened, "How long have you had that book?"

"About eighteen years."

"And you've never read it?"

Amelia shook her head, "It was a gift from Nick from when we first got together and I never got around to reading it."

Constance chuckled. As though she had owned that book for nearly twenty years and hadn't even turned the first page before today. She rested her head on the window again, trying to go back to sleep but a certain headmistress was having none of it. She shook her shoulder. Constance's head rose up again, looking at her.

"Does Atticus kill Tom?"

Constance turned to look at Amelia, "Do you really think it's in his nature? Atticus is the symbol of balance and justice – he doesn't want Tom to die or be subject to a lynch mob, that's why he's defending him in court."

There was a squeak from the back of the coach, "Spoilers!" and then the sound of Patricia elbowing Davina in the ribs.

"So what happens?" Amelia asked, closing the book.

Constance rolled her eyes, "I'm not saying because it will ruin it for you."

Amelia grabbed Constance's arm, "Oh come on."

"No."

She opened her eyes wide, pleading with Constance to give her the answer to her question. Constance's raised an eyebrow and shook her head.

"I'm not saying anything."

Amelia glared at the book and with a sulky grunt she opened the page she had left it on and continued to read, "I guess I'll find out for myself then if you won't tell me."

Shaking her head, Constance returned to looking out of the window. They were somewhere near Leeds now and it would soon be time for a leg stretch at a coach stop. The countryside by the road was empty of animals now; all the sheep and cows would be in their barns, keeping warm. It was getting later in the year and now it was the second week in November the days were getting colder, though Patricia seemed to be losing layers of clothing as the year went on.

They pulled up at a service station before they headed west up towards the lake district. Patricia bought herself a cup of coffee from the kiosk while Amelia stayed on the coach reading her book.

"Not long now until we're there." Davina said to her friend as she picked up the strawberry milkshake that had been pushed along the counter towards her. Both women sat down at a small table near the toilets.

Patricia scoffed, "Ye kiddin' aren't ye? It's a bloody hike until we get there, man. At least another hour and a half."

Davina lowered her head submissively, muttering something as she sipped her milkshake. The girls were being attended to by Constance who was patrolling the canteen as though it was the great hall at dinner time, watching the girls as they tucked into the sandwiches Mrs Tapioca had prepared for them last night.

"D'ye think Amelia will have her replacing Millicent completely?" Asked Patricia. She stirred her tea absently as she watched the fearsome new staff member march backwards and forwards, her shoes clicking against the tiled floor, "Are ye not gonna eat anything?" She called over to Constance.

The young witch shot her a blood curdling glare then piped up, "I want to make sure the girls are settled and occupied, Miss Gimlet, before I have my own lunch."

"Wey the coach is leavin' in five minutes so better get yer arse in gear."

Davina chuckled under her breath, looking up into Patricia's eyes, "You're getting worse as you get older."

"Cannet blame me fer that. She needs to chill out a bit. The poor lass'll have a heart attack with all the pressure she puts on hersel'. There's no one here she needs to impress. Amelia is on the bus reading that book of hers-"

"Do I tell her the ending? OW!" She yelped as Patricia pressed her heel into her foot, "Okay, maybe not."

They returned to the coach and soon they were back on the road. The sun was hanging low in the afternoon sky when they arrived at the camp site. It was near Lake Windermere, perhaps further north then some of the students had ever been. It was bitter cold with a raging wind whipping the girls as they climbed out of the lovely, warm coach with their rucksacks. Patricia retrieved her suitcase from the storage beneath the coach and explained that she needed to do something before they started putting up the tents. As she was dragging her bright pink suitcase up the gravel path leading towards the toilets, Amelia, Constance, Davina and all six of the girls went in to the reception area to state that they had arrived.

"And how long are you staying, Miss Cackle?" Asked the girl behind the counter of the wooden shack-like reception office.

"Just for the week and then back to the academy for our girls." Amelia explained as she pulled out her purse and took out a rather thick bundle of money and passed it to the receptionist. The young girl took it and handed Amelia a set of keys.

"These are for if you decide to access our spa facilities."

The door behind them swung open, allowing a gust of squalling rain to blow in. The girls gasped at the icy blast and turned to see Patricia, still wearing her zebra print hat but now she was wearing a leopard print coat and a pair of black leather gloves. Constance looked up at the ceiling at the sight of her and muttered, "For goodness sake, is there nothing you won't wear?"

They left the office and climbed up the steep, gravelled hill Patricia had ascended some minutes before and found a large patch of grass that had been cordoned off.

"This will do," Amelia said, looking at the receipt the girl had given her, "Lot thirty two. Large enough for eight tents."

"Eight tents?!" Patricia, Davina and Constance said in unison.

Amelia bit her bottom lip, "Ah silly me. I forgot to mention we would have to share two tents between the four of us. You're only allowed six tents per pitch but I managed to get it up to eight."

"I'll go with you, Amelia." Davina said quickly, rushing to the headmistress' side, "No offence but I would much rather go with you. Patricia snores, you see."

Patricia gritted her teeth, folding her oversized, leopard print arms, "Be like that," she waved her fingers and with a flash of brilliant silver her suitcase opened revealing an array of shrunken contents; ten different kinds of boots, boiler suits, frilly blouses, high waisted jeans and to Constance's surprise a folded up tent with a wire frame and a sleeping bag, "Help me put this up, will ye?" She asked Constance as she pulled the bright pink sheet out of the suitcase. It clicked shut when they removed everything that was needed and everyone set to work on building their tents.

Constance was in charge of the frame of the tent while Patricia held the material in place and laid the groundsheet. It was only a small tent so didn't take too long to put together. Amelia passed over a deflated air bed which Constance had to blow up herself, "No magic!" Amelia snapped as she saw Constance preparing her casting fingers. She could feel a vein in her forehead throbbing with every single puff of air she exerted into the mattress. Eventually it was ready and Patricia dove head first into the tent.

"Look at this, you must have lungs of steel!" She exclaimed, kicking off her boots and laying back on the air bed. Constance looked around at all of the other tents – the girls had plain black ones and Davina and Amelia had a grey and white striped one. Why was Constance lumbered with a ridiculous, hideous pink one and Patricia? She rolled her eyes, popping her head into the tent.

It did look rather cosy inside with the sleeping bags beneath a furry grey blanket to keep them both extra warm in the cold nights during the trip. Constance climbed onto the airbed beside Patricia and looked at her, "Now this isn't as bad as I expected," then she turned to look up at the ceiling of the tent and saw that it was green and pink striped. She sighed, "Or perhaps I'll need to go to the shop and get some aspirin."

There was a strange clicking from the side of the tent and with a rustle of material the tent collapsed on top of them. Constance rolled her eyes as she lay beneath the collapsed tent. There was the sound of laughter from outside, carried on the wind towards them as Constance fought her way out of the horrific pink tomb tent. She slicked a stray hair back as she clambered out, followed by Patricia who seemed to have loved the experience. Constance directed her casting fingers at the tent, reinforcing the poles. Obviously they had been slackened by the gasping wind.

It was soon time to go to sleep and Constance had gone down to the communal bathrooms with the girls, brushing her teeth and styling her hair into a ponytail to keep it out of the way while she was sleeping.

"Miss," Delia Willow started after she had finished brushing her teeth and began to brush out her curly blonde hair, "Why are you sharing with Miss Gimlet? Surely you should have your own tent."

"Hmm," Constance grumbled as she stood by the sink, watching the girls perform their evening rituals. She understood how it had happened, the issue with the tents, but why couldn't the students share?, "Miss Cackle feels that it is for the greater good of the academy to have the staff work together and learn each other's habits so we can work like a well oiled machine rather than, well, a rusty one."

Delia furrowed her thin eyebrows, "But Miss, how can you work well with someone like Miss Bat or Miss Gimlet? They're not very good at their-"

Constance clenched her jaw, "Delia Willow, I need you to understand that both Miss Bat and Miss Gimlet are both competent at their jobs and achieve the best results in their field. Why else would Miss Cackle have them working at one of the best witch academies in the country?"

Delia rolled her eyes as she pulled her hair into a top knot, "I've heard Pentangle's is better."

Caitlyn was on the other end of the bathroom with her friend, Isla. She spat her bright white toothpaste into the green sink and looked up at the interaction between Delia and her form mistress.

"H.B really thinks Delia is the bee's knees, doesn't she?" Caitlyn muttered, wiping the corners of her mouth.

Isla pushed her round wire frame glasses up her short nose, waiting for her friend, "I wouldn't say that, Cat. H.B doesn't take any rubbish. They say that she is capable of smelling out lies."

"Which is true, Isla Moonshine, so if you don't mind I would like to head back to the pitch," came Constance's voice from behind them. She had materialised so she was towering over the two worst witches in the first year. They followed her without question, joining the line of girls who headed up the hill towards the tents. Constance climbed into her and Patricia's tent which was empty.

She carefully changed into her pyjamas and climbed into her sleeping bag, kicking her legs to warm up the fabric so she wasn't as cold.

Outside the wind was roaring and Davina and Patricia were sat behind the tent that would be used by the chanting mistress and Amelia.

"Are you going for it?" Davina asked, holding her friend's hand. She had taken her crinkled hair down and it looked almost like serpents were attached to her scalp as the wind wound through her mousy locks.

Patricia nodded, hugging her friend, "If I don't make it out alive, I want you to know that you can have my cat."

"Don't be silly, Trish-" Davina started but Patricia had already made her run up to her bright pink tent and with a loud thud had thrown herself onto the air bed.

Constance had busied herself with reading a book as Patricia flew in towards her. She threw herself aside with a scream, falling off the side of the air bed. As Patricia made contact there was a loud popping noise and the air bed began to sink.

"Oh dear," Patricia said quietly, still laying on top of the air bed. Davina had rushed over, sticking her head through. She laughed loudly at the sight of Constance lying face down on the floor of the tent with her copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ in her hand and Patricia posing like a model as the air bed deflated, "D'ye think I've knacked it?"

"Just a bit." Whispered Davina.

After necessary repairs were done to the air bed and Patricia had been told to grow up and act her age, everyone went into their tents and curled up in their sleeping bags. Patricia was fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, vibrating like a train as she snored into the dark canvas above them. Constance let out a weary sigh as she tried to roll Patricia over as she slept but the more she moved her the louder her snores seemed to become. She admitted defeat, opening her toiletry bag and digging out a bottle of Wide Awake Potion. She was going to need it for the morning.

The sun rose slowly and the cockerel crowed from a distant farm. Constance lay in her sleeping bag, gripping her bottle of potion and her eyes bloodshot. She could feel a nerve twitching in her temple as Patricia's snores vibrated through the air bed. She ground her teeth as she pushed herself up and slid out of the static material of the sleeping bag. As she sat up Patricia's snoring was replaced with a loud trumpeting noise.

"Oh no..." She mumbled, realising what the noise was. She evacuated the tent and took her potion outside in the fresh morning air. She realised there was no one else awake. She uncorked the bottle of the potion and could feel the warm sensation of the potion running through her veins, a surge of electrical energy.

A rustling sound came from within one of the tents and out popped a mass of crinkled mousy hair. Davina clambered out of the grey and white striped tent she had been sharing with Amelia and coughed, pulling a clump of mud out from the back of her head.

"Good morning, Constance," She said dreamily, fumbling to find her glasses. Her hands found them sitting on top of her bird's nest.

"Good morning, Davina." Constance replied, concealing her potion bottle and watching as Davina threw the mud towards the ground at her feet.

"I had the funniest dream," Davina yawned, flopping on the floor and crossing her legs, "I was on a stage with Stevie and she gave me a tambourine and when I looked at it it ended up having Millicent's face on it. It was shouting at me, telling me I was a lunatic."

"A tambourine was shouting at you?" Constance asked scathingly.

"It was only a dream, you know." Said Davina as she rose up and began to spin her dressing gown like a shawl, "It's ever so liberating, you know. You should try it."

Constance shook her head and opened up Patricia's bright pink tent, holding her breath as she put the potion bottle back into her bag. There was a loud yawn from the air bed and Patricia opened her eyes. It was the first time Constance had ever seen her without any makeup on. She was actually quite a pretty lady were it not for her bright blue eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner.

"Oh g'morning flower. Y'alright?" Patricia groaned, "I hope I didn't keep ye up too late with me snorin'."

Constance forced a smile, "Well I didn't get very much sleep but I'll be okay."

Patricia pushed away her sleeping bag and crawled out of the tent. She looked wide eyed at Davina and then back at Constance, "I apologise for my friend. She wakes up and thinks she's Stevie Nicks."

"I hadn't noticed."

There was a rustling from Amelia's tent and her head popped out, "So ladies," she started as she pushed herself to her feet with a grunt, "What are we doing today?"


	16. In A Bit Of A Pickle

The week at the lake went by quickly. The staff and students of Cackle's had visited villages around the lake and the students had insisted on going for ice creams in one of the cafés in Windermere when they had visited the town on Thursday. Of course Amelia had obliged and had taken the girls (and herself) for ice cream. Constance ordered mint chocolate chip ice cream, Amelia had eaten strawberry. Davina had tried a flavour called "Devil's Advocate" which ended up being chilli and chocolate.

" _It's hot but it's cold!" she cried as she kept trying to cool her mouth down by eating more ice cream._

" _Maybe you should have some't else?" Patricia suggested, offering her friend her own raspberry flavoured ice cream._

" _No. This will work!" Davina shrieked as her face flushed, her eyes becoming bloodshot as she continued to eat the spicy ice cream._

It was now Friday and Amelia had said for their last day they would sail over the lake.

"Don't forget to put your life jackets on, girls. We don't want anyone drowning if they go overboard," Said Davina as she passed out the bright orange life jackets to all of the girls. She passed larger ones to the staff.

"Is this really necessary at the moment? We haven't even left the camp site." Constance asked as she pulled on her own life jacket, looking out over the landscape of brightly coloured tents that knit together like a patchwork quilt beneath the pink morning sky.

"You never know what may happen between now and when we get on the boat, Constance," Smiled Davina as she turned, passing Patricia hers.

"Howay, man. An XXL? I'm not that fat!" Seethed Patricia as she pulled on her life jacket.

Amelia pulled on hers and led everyone away from the tents and down the bank towards the coach that was waiting for them. Stephen, the driver, had the radio on already and was wearing his reflective sunglasses.

"Alright ladies? Where to today?" He asked as the girls filed onto the coach. Constance and Amelia sat down behind him, Patricia and Davina giggling about something as they made their way to the back of the coach.

"We're wanting to go to the lake today, Stephen, if that's alright." Stated Amelia, leaning forwards and placing a hand on Stephen's shoulder.

Constance pulled a book out of her handbag – Alice's Adventures in Wonderland – and began to read it. Amelia pulled a book out of her bag too and the two women sat reading as the coach pulled away from the camp site and down the hill towards the lake.

"What's that?" Amelia asked as she peered over Constance's shoulder at a bit of paper that was hanging out of the top of her book.

Constance looked up at her and then followed her eyes to the top of the photograph of her mother, "Oh this? It's just a photograph."

Amelia smiled, "May I have a look?" Constance nodded, passing Amelia the photograph. She peered at it for a moment and then her smile grew wider, "Good heavens, you look just like her."

Constance took the photograph and placed it in the back of the book where it belonged, "My father adored her which was why he was so frustrated with me when she died."

"You know that's not true, Constance. He regretted being so nasty so he tried to make contact. If it wasn't for that horrid woman you could have had a reconciliation."

Constance made a dismissive noise and then turned her attention to the window. The last person she wanted to think about was _her_. They pulled up in a large car park looking over the village. Davina and Patricia could still be heard giggling as the engine of the coach was turned off and the girls started to file back off the coach.

Amelia and Constance were last to leave the coach. Amelia turned to the girls, pointing towards a boat floating on the surface of the lake, "That's our destination, girls."

Constance wandered behind, shepherding the girls towards the boat. The girls were complaining about the cold. It was indeed quite chilly in comparison to the coach but what were the girls expecting, tropical sunshine in the middle of November?

Caitlyn Shepherd was being the most disruptive, whining about her numb fingers and cold ears.

"Perhaps, Caitlyn, you should invest in a pair of gloves and a hat so I don't have to listen to you complaining about how cold you are."

"But Miss I'm so cold. Can I not borrow your gloves?" Complained Caitlyn as she blew between her hands to keep them from turning into icicles.

Constance rolled her eyes and removed her woollen black gloves with a heavy sigh as she passed them to Caitlyn, "I expect them back in one piece."

The only comfort she had in her current outfit were those gloves. Other than that she had been stripped bare of her familiar black gowns and had been forced to wear creaky denim jeans and an itchy sweater that was two sizes too big, one of Patricia's cast offs and of course the life jacket.

They soon arrived at the boat which looked a lot smaller up close.

"Is there going to be enough room?" Asked Davina.

Amelia looked at the tiny boat and then back at the girls, "Well it does have ten seats so that's more than enough."

"I thought we were goin' on one of those," Said Patricia, pointing at a much larger boat with an upper deck that was just leaving the harbour.

Constance gritted her teeth, feeling the girls shivering beside her. She was beginning to feel the cold too and to be on a tiny wooden boat in the open air so close to the ice cold water seemed like hell in comparison to being on a lovely warm tour boat with heated seats and an anorak to keep her dry.

"There'll be another one." Amelia stated.

And they waited for nearly an hour until the boat returned to the harbour. The girls were complaining, even Constance was at the end of her tether waiting. Patricia and Davina were trying to open a jar of pickled onions but were struggling. Patricia had wrapped her scarf around the lid and tried to force it off but it was no use. It was well and truly stuck.

The boat returned and the girls rushed to it. Amelia spoke to the gentleman who was hosting the tour and gave him the money. Everyone sat on the upper deck when they heard it did indeed have heated seats. Constance picked up the package on her seat and opened it. It was a bright blue anorak. She threw it over herself and enjoyed the feeling of warmth around her head for the brief moment before it cooled down. She sat beside Delia Willow who was wearing a plum beret and a pair of white gloves along with her black overcoat. She was still wearing her life jacket. Why Davina felt the necessity to hand them out she had no idea.

With a judder the boat moved away from the harbour again, touring them around the lake. They could see the great hills and islands in between, holiday homes and lodges overlooking the vast body of water.

Davina and Patricia were still giggling, trying to undo the lid of the jar of pickled onions but to no avail. Davina hit it off the side of the boat and when she brought it up again she shook it. The lid of the jar came flying off, landing in the water, but a shower of pickled onions covered everyone on the boat. Constance turned just as this was happening and felt a sharp stinging in her eye as the vinegar from the jar splattered into it.

"Right! That's enough!" She shouted, gently rubbing beneath her eye with the tips of her fingers, "The pair of you will sit on opposite sides of the boat until you have calmed down. I'll take that," She snatched the empty jar from them and returned to her seat, groaning slightly as her eye ached beneath her fingers.

"Are you okay, Miss?" Asked Delia, trying to get a look at Constance's eye which was very bloodshot and had swollen up almost instantly.

Constance didn't say anything, feeling her anger rising as she thought about how immature the two teachers were. She had been wrong to defend them against Millicent. They should have been told how pathetic they both are, acting worse than the girls.

She could hear Patricia sniggering in front of her.

"What's funny, Miss Gimlet?" Constance snapped, blinking quite badly as she tried to flush out the vinegar in her eye.

Patricia cleared her throat and straightened her face, struggling to fight back the wave of hysteria, "Nothin' Miss Hardbroom," she cleared her throat again, still silently laughing to herself as she said, "I was just thinkin' that you really are a sight for sore eyes."

Davina burst into laughter at the back of the boat. Constance turned slowly to look at her. Davina nearly fell overboard with the force of her laughter, "Looks like she's in a bit of a pickle!"

The girls were laughing at this point, coming up with their own little jokes. Constance rolled her eyes. Amelia called, "I think that's quite enough."

"That was so unfair, Miss. They shouldn't speak to you like that." Interjected Delia as she fiddled with her life jacket.

"You're right, Delia. They shouldn't." Constance said with a smirk, observing the cord on Delia's life jacket.

The wave of laughter on the boat ceased as they drew back towards the harbour. Some of the girls were still chuckling slightly but most of them had calmed down.

"Oh, Davina. Before I forget," Constance started, looking at the chanting mistress who smiled up at her, "I hope you don't mind me saying that you look a bit blown up today."

Davina furrowed her tiny eyebrows, "What do you mean?"

Constance smiled nastily as she pulled the cord of Davina's life jacket which blew up instantly. Her arms flew up into the air with the pressure of it. She walked away leaving Davina struggling to lower her arms.

"Help?" She whimpered, waddling over to the coach. Stephen was stood eating a sausage roll as he looked at Davina who was walking like a penguin behind the line of students.

"What's going on here?" He asked as everyone but Davina filed onto the coach.

Davina tried to flatten her life jacket by flapping her arms like a demented seagull as she eventually got onto the coach, walking sideways down the aisle to avoid knocking the students.

"How do I get it to go down?" Davina asked as she flopped into the seat beside Patricia.

Patricia smiled kindly at her friend and wiggled her fingers. Little sparkles of purple and silver emitted from them and slowly the life jacket returned to its original size.

"Revenge for the onion juice." Patricia commented, "That girl has a wicked sense of humour sometimes."

"Yes well, I don't like being on the receiving end of it." Davina grumbled, removing her life jacket and warming her hands.

"What a waste of pickled onions, you could have at least covered the jar before you shook it." Said Patricia as she put her hands in her oversized handbag and drew out a packet of steak flavoured crisps. She offered one to her friend who declined. She shrugged and devoured the packet before crumpling up the packaging and throwing it back into her handbag.

The next day was time to leave and after the tents were packed away they travelled back down to Cackle's Academy where they were greeted by a rather pleased looking Mrs Tapioca. She had the girls who had stayed at the school in the courtyard doing some kind of strange ballroom dancing. As the coach drove up and everyone climbed off (thanking Stephen as they did so), Amelia wandered over to greet the chef.

Constance turned to Davina, "I hope there are no hard feelings about the whole life jacket incident."

Davina scowled at Constance and with a twirl she and her luggage sped off towards the staff room, no doubt back to the cupboard.

"All of this over pickled onions. I mean, really!" Patricia chuckled to herself as she pulled up the handle of her suitcase and walked into the castle to face the second half of the winter term.

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 **Inspired by the tumblr otpprompts: Imagine your OTP both struggling to open a jar.  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter :D**


	17. Building Broken Bridges

"Now girls. Today we are going to be having a little test, nothing too difficult so you won't need your text books out. Put that book away, Caitlyn. Now get out your pens and pencils and turn over your test papers," Constance wound the timer on her desk to twenty minutes, "Now."

It was the day of Constance's first private tutor lesson with Caitlyn Shepherd and to see the areas she was failing in she was holding a test for all of the first year girls. There were a few concerns for her with a few other students so this was a way for her to weed out any issues before they took root.

The air was filled with the scratching of pens against paper, well except for one. She walked over to the silent desk and knelt down, looking up at the student.

"What seems to be the matter, Caitlyn?" She whispered, her knees clicking as she made herself comfortable in her little position on the floor.

Caitlyn furrowed her bushy eyebrows, biting her bottom lip, "Well it's these formulae, Miss Hardbroom. I just can't get my head around them. I get the whole thing about the different ingredients, you know like a teaspoon of spider's eggs and half an ounce of dried mint leaves but after that I have no clue. It's like I'm reading a foreign language."

Constance straightened up slightly to see the exam sheet. Caitlyn was indeed struggling. By the look of it she hadn't put her pen to the page.

"We are going to have a lot of work to do, you and I," she said softly, "Do what you can and we'll work on it after the class, okay?"

"Thanks Miss," Caitlyn said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice as she finally set to work on her test. Her pen pressed to the paper as Constance returned to her desk, picking up a book from within her desk drawer (another one of her favourites – The Catcher in the Rye) and was skimming through the pages.

Quite honestly, Constance wasn't paying much attention to the story. Her mind was wandering, back to the incident with Emma, back to what she had told Amelia. She wondered how exactly Amelia had managed to contact her so discreetly for she was never much good with a phone book. She had to have had the telephone number somewhere in her office. Constance cast her mind back.

Her flesh began to crawl as she remembered all too well the memory of Emma's... no, Broomhead's cold hand against her thigh. The panic attack that day had distorted her memory of what had actually happened. She shuddered as her stomach twisted and she felt as though she might have been sick. With a heavy sigh she returned her attention to the book in her hand just as the timer went off making her and the all of the girls jump.

"Right, put down your pens and pencils and bring all of her test papers up here to me." She ordered as the girls filed up quietly, passing her their papers, "For the rest of the session you may revise some invisibility potions. Turn to page three hundred and ninety four in your text books and copy out paragraphs one and two in your exercise books."

She placed her book on the desk and tried to look for Caitlyn's test sheet as the air was filled once again with the sound of scratching pens. The class misfit had managed to complete most of her questions, though in some instances quite crudely. The balance of ingredients was perfect for all of the potions, but the strange thing was when she looked at the formulae the working out was absolutely perfect but the wrong answer had been written down. It looked as though Caitlyn had purposefully failed the test. Grinding her teeth, Constance marked the paper and put it to one side for the private session with Caitlyn.

The school bell rang and the first years departed for their free lesson, all except Caitlyn who remained seated.

Constance put the other girls' papers to one side for the time being, "Do you want to pull up a stool and we can go over this together?"

Caitlyn stood up from the bench and dragged her stool painfully along the floor, scraping it loudly as she moved. The sound went straight through Constance who closed her eyes, trying to drown out the noise. Finally the scraping stopped and with a soft sigh, Caitlyn sat down beside Constance.

"It feels weird being sat up here. Is that what it's like for you, Miss?" Caitlyn asked, "I mean you only recently graduated from uni, didn't you?"

With a brief, forced smile Constance nodded, "Yes I did. And I understand what you mean. Anyway let's have a look at your test. I've marked it already so we can have a look at where we need to do some work. So you can see here with the question about the sleeping draught the working out for the formulae is correct but the answer is completely wrong. I don't know how you've done it, Caitlyn. I've never seen anything like it before. In a normal situation it's the working out of the formulae that's wrong but you somehow managed to get it right up to a point and then you've written down the wrong answer. How on Earth did you manage that?" She asked, sounding rather sharp.

Caitlyn flushed slightly, her rosy cheeks contrasting heavily with her pale skin and auburn hair, "Sorry Miss," she lowered her head submissively, reacting to Constance's tone.

"Don't be sorry, silly girl. I'm here to help you. Now, tell me how you worked it out."

So they sat for a while going over the test paper. Caitlyn showed signs of understanding what Constance was saying but she still wasn't convinced so she promised during the mathematics class the next day to cover basic formulae as she wouldn't be surprised if there were other people in the class struggling.

"It's not the easiest thing to understand for some people," Commented Constance as she put Caitlyn's paper to one side, "But I actually think you do understand it. As I said before, the formulae is right but the answers are wrong. Is there something you aren't telling me, Caitlyn Shepherd? And remember what Isla said when we were camping."

Caitlyn looked down at her boots, fidgeting in her seat as she remembered the rumour about the formidable potions mistress. Of course Constance knew it was a lie, but she didn't mind having that rumour spreading about her.

"Caitlyn-"

"Yes Miss Hardbroom. I'm sorry. I do need the help with the formulae because they do get confusing, but I just feel lonely sometimes. My mum never writes back to me and my dad doesn't seem to care, not after they got divorced. My friends don't seem to understand, they're always going on about their parents and stuff they do together but I never had that. That's why sometimes I can be a bit of a pain. I'm sorry," she apologised again, tucking a long strand of her red hair behind her tiny ear.

"So you failed your test so you could speak to someone," Constance said very quietly, "That someone being me. You can't go through life doing that. Do your friends know about this?"

Caitlyn shook her head.

"Right, well. What I would suggest then is for you to tell your friends how you feel. You can't stop them from talking about their families but perhaps in you telling them they will be more considerate of your feelings. If that fails then you can perhaps help Delia and I with cleaning the classroom during break times."

"Oh no, Miss. It's fine." Caitlyn muttered, sneering at the thought of spending her free time with the most annoying girl in school.

"Very well then," Constance said crisply as she gathered her books and escorted Caitlyn out of the potions lab, making her own way to the staff room.

About a week later the staff were sitting in the staff room; Davina and Patricia looking out of the window at the snow falling gently down onto the cobblestone ground. Now that it was nearly December the weather was shifting and it was time to make decisions regarding the preparations for Christmas.

Amelia had suggested an evening meeting and they had gathered together with cups of hot chocolate in the cosy staff room, with its roaring fire burning within the stone hearth.

"The girls are staying for Christmas this year?" Constance enquired.

Amelia nodded, taking a custard cream from the biscuit tin on the table, "It's tradition. Witch schools don't celebrate Christmas like normal schools. We'll have a feast to celebrate the solstice and perhaps a pantomime-"

"Could we have Cinderella?" Davina asked, shifting jovially in her seat.

Constance scowled at her, "Don't be ridiculous. Why on Earth would we have a pantomime?"

"Well it's something to entertain the girls and something they can put their energy in to. They get ever so restless this time of year, wanting to be with their families. It will be a distraction for them," Replied Amelia. She sipped her hot chocolate and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Yes. A distraction from their studies." Complained Constance, folding her arms moodily across her chest.

"I think it'll be a laugh. I mean when I was a behn we used to have pantos all the time at school. It doesn't need to be out fancy, mind, just something to keep the girls entertained over Christmas," Patricia fluffed her over-processed hair, "I played Prince Charmin' in Snow White and the Seven Dwarves when I was in school."

Seeing the expression on the young witch's face as she looked at Patricia, Amelia commented, "Perhaps Constance is right about a pantomime, but maybe something else would prove a distraction for the girls. I received a letter from Phyllis Pentangle this morning," Davina made a scathing noise as Amelia continued, "Asking if the girls wanted to visit Pentangle's over the new year."

Constance was only too aware of the rivalry between Pentangle's Academy and Cackle's Academy. The way Amelia had spoken about the school in the past made Constance feel that perhaps it wouldn't be the best idea. Before she could vocalise her concerns, however, Patricia spoke.

"As if Phyllis said that. I mean I'm not sure how much of a good idea it is but-"

"It will be a great way to rebuild broken bridges." Amelia announced, "Which I think is more than necessary in this instance. I will tell the girls in the morning."

With a scowl, Constance looked at Amelia, "I still don't think it's a good idea. What if there's a fight at the school and-"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Said Amelia, "With the girls away during the New Year we can prepare for a nice New Year party for ourselves. Perhaps go to the pub in the village for a drink or two?"

"Oh and then back to Constance's for a drop of vino!" Patricia said merrily, "That'd be grand. Thanks babe." She said tapping Constance on the shoulder.

Her mouth was twisting even more with each comment. She had no problem with her colleagues going to her cottage after they had been to the pub but asking would have been more polite. But now both Patricia and Davina were off on a tangent deciding what to wear, what to drink.

After about an hour they had all decided on putting a large tree in the great hall, possibly beside Davina's organ, and to have the girls help decorate it over the weekend.

"You don't mind do you, Constance?" Asked Amelia, realising that the youngest staff member may have wanted to be at home over the weekend.

Constance shook her head, "Not at all, Amelia. I'll be there helping to make sure that the standard of tree decorating is up to scratch," though if she was being totally honest, Constance had never actually decorated a Christmas tree before so when the weekend came around and it was time to decorate the tree, Constance looked a bit bemused.

She entered the great hall on the Saturday afternoon after lunch to find a beautifully pruned Christmas tree sitting in the centre of the seating area. The chairs had been pushed to one side and the girls were running around the tree in circles, unwinding a ball of shimmering golden tinsel. Davina had managed to find her gramophone, which was currently playing _Run, Run, Rudolph_ as the girls laughed and played with the Christmas decorations that should have been going on to the tree.

"What is going on here?!" She boomed as she made her way over to the second year girls that had been circling the tree, "Fiona Hallow I expected better from you."

The blonde haired girl smiled, her turned up nose sticking up in the air as she said, "We're just getting into the Christmas spirit, Miss Hardbroom."

"Well get out of it. You have been asked by Miss Cackle to decorate this tree, not to turn the great hall into a playground. So do as you're told or it's detention for all of you. And that includes you, Rose Meadows." She said irritably, noticing the brown haired Rose hiding behind the tree, trying to avoid any blame for the situation.

Constance walked over to the gramophone and switched off the horrendous Christmas music and took a seat by the doorway, watching as the girls now calmly decorated the tree, placing red and gold baubles on branches and precisely placing each strand of tinsel.

By the end of the day the tree was ready to be moved up to the podium so Constance took her casting fingers and levitated the tree to the spot that had been decided on by both teachers and students alike.

"Oh doesn't that look lovely girls?" Amelia cried as she stepped into the great hall, "I'm sure that helped you get into the Christmas spirit. Did you have fun?"

The girls nodded, though one or two eyes turned to Constance who was still sat by the door.

"Did they behave themselves, Miss Hardbroom?" Asked Amelia.

"There were one or two hiccups but they were sorted out. Overall it has been a success." Said Constance as she gazed up at the beautifully decorated tree with its gold and red baubles and tinsel.

"All that's left is the star," Amelia commented, taking the large golden star out of the cardboard box that had been used to store the decorations. She lingered on it for a moment, running her hand over the smooth surface, "I suppose we can leave that until Christmas Eve."

"Why, Miss?" Asked Fiona Hallow as she brushed a strand of her blonde hair away from her face.

With a shimmering smile, Amelia looked up from the star in her hand at her student. For a moment Constance thought she saw a tear in the corner of the headmistress' eye, "My husband, my late husband, insisted on it."

Constance lent Amelia a sympathetic smile as she placed the star back in the box and looked up at the perfectly decorated tree. The headmistress smiled at her friend and then at her students again.

"Perhaps some jolly Christmas music to lighten the mood!" Amelia said, rubbing her hands together as she made her way to the gramophone.

Constance went after her, raising a stopping hand but her attempts were useless, "Headmistress, I really don't think... Oh for goodness sake," she whispered as the horrendous Christmas music filled the hall once again. She rolled her eyes and marched to the staff room. Perhaps there she could have some peace and quiet.

* * *

 ** _A/N: I know it's a bit early to be getting ready for Christmas, well for us anyway. Anyway I hope you enjoyed. Next week will be our first look at a rather British issue when it comes to winter._**

 ** _If you haven't read it already I posted a story called Dear Nicholas about Amelia and her late husband, Nicholas (one of my many OCs within this series). Feel free to have a read of that if you want to get to know her character in this story a bit better._**


	18. Snowed In

_**A/N: Based on OTP Prompts – Person A brings home a new exotic pet, not knowing Person B has a phobia of it. Thank you to Dreamsinlilac for playing ping pong with ideas for this chapter (I hope you see it). I hope you enjoy reading.**_

* * *

It was the first weekend of December and the village of Old Noxby woke up to the sight of thick snow outside of their bedroom windows. Constance was lying in bed, fast asleep, with Morgana snuggling into her hair as she purred softly, kneading her mistress' shoulders. She let out a very soft miaow as she relinquished her hold on Constance's hair and bound up to the window to look out at the winter wonderland beyond the cottage.

Constance woke with a yawn at the sound of Morgana leaping onto the windowsill. She stretched, arching her back, then looked at the black kitten staring back at her with her wide, olive green eyes.

"What is it little one?" She asked, climbing out of bed, straightening her pyjamas as she looked at the view outside.

Snow was falling gently to the perfect white blanket below, twinkling as the tiny snowflakes drifted, falling as slowly as a feather, towards the frozen ground.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Constance asked the little kitten who made a soft chirruping noise, blinking up at her.

The two of them looked out over the wintry village lit by the paling glow of orange street lights as over the treetops, glazed with frost and cushions of snow, a certain chanting mistress was receiving a delivery at the gates of Cackle's Academy.

"Now you have the mice and everything in that box over there," the bulky delivery driver said, pointing to a cardboard box, sitting on top of a larger wooden crate "And everything else you need is in this big one," he grunted as he lugged the crate into the castle for Davina.

She squealed with excitement as the driver gently placed the crate on the floor of her bedroom and left the school in his van, leaving tyre tracks in the freshly laid snow.

"Hello." Davina squeaked into the crate, hearing a low hissing noise, "Don't you worry. I'll have you out of there in no time."

Downstairs in the great hall, Patricia and Amelia were supervising breakfast. Patricia was stealing little pieces of bacon when she thought the headmistress wasn't looking.

"Do you think Davina will join us?" Amelia asked, thinking of the chanting mistress who hadn't been seen for dust when she left the staff room to answer the heavy wooden door about an hour before.

Patricia smirked, "Nah. You know what she's like. She's probably found somethin' far more entertainin' in her bedroom."

With a smile, Amelia looked up at Patricia who had her makeup more toned down today. She had suffered from a nasty cold the week after they came back from the camping trip so she hadn't been able to wear her usual blue eyeshadow, blue eyeliner and blue mascara though her cheeks were still as heavily contoured as usual and her dress sense was still horrendous. Today she was wearing a red and blue houndstooth blazer on top of a black vest top. She was wearing a violently orange skirt beneath and a pair of purple high heels with little stars on them. Amelia counted her blessings that Constance hadn't been here as she would have been complaining about getting a migraine until Patricia changed into something more neutral.

She hated to agree with Patricia on this topic but Constance did need to relax. At least she was at the cottage for the first time in a while so she could have a nice lie in and perhaps a lazy day, though Amelia doubted that the word lazy existed in Constance's vocabulary unless it was being applied to her students.

"So did ye decide on what the girls are doin' for Christmas?" Asked Patricia as she slyly took another slice of bacon.

Amelia hadn't thought that far ahead though Christmas was looming closer and closer with every passing day, "Well they will be at Pentangle's from the day after Boxing Day until the day after New Year. The indemnity forms have all been sent off to the parents, by the way," Amelia added, more for her own peace of mind than Patricia's, "But for their Christmas party with us... Perhaps a buffet and a disco?"

"Can I pick the music? Please, Amelia!" Patricia pleaded. Of course she was going to want to be in charge of the music. She had the most diverse and modern tastes in comparison to any of the other staff.

"Of course, Patricia. Just none of that Suzi person."

"Siouxsie and the Banshees? Whatever you say, headmistress." Patricia raised a thick, dark eyebrow, realising that Amelia hadn't said a word about her current favourite, Adam Ant. Perhaps she could sneak some of him in somewhere.

The snow outside was falling more forcefully, the thin layer on the ground swelling as it began to climb up the sides of buildings, coating the bare rose bush beneath Amelia's office window. Constance, who had gone back to bed with Morgana, was sat up reading with the purring black cat laying across her lap as she turned the page of her book.

She was reading through _A Christmas Carol_ , a seasonal favourite of hers. Though she wasn't the most Christmassy person she did enjoy some of the classic things like the stories and the snowy weather. There was nothing more perfect to Constance than the idea of lying in bed with her book and her cat, watching as the snow fell gently to the ground outside. If she ever had children she could imagine helping them build snowmen in the garden for all of the neighbours to see, though she doubted that day would ever come.

She lowered her book to admire the view outside but noticed that she couldn't see outside of her bedroom window.

"What on Earth...?" She whispered, pushing Morgana off her legs and walking over to the window.

The snow was falling so rapidly now that she couldn't see out of her window for it. It had turned into just one giant white blur as she looked outside. Constance rubbed her eyes as she looked over at the other side of the street to see that all of the houses had a fairly even layer of snow half way up their front doors. Her heart suddenly began to beat very quickly, thumping in her ears as she raced down the stairs to look out of the living room window.

"Oh no." She hissed, seeing that her front door had been forced shut by the ever growing layer of snow too. She couldn't do anything about what was happening, she would have to wait for it to pass. If it was a result of the Foster's Effect she could have done something but this was just an act of Mother Nature so her magic was probably rendered useless. With that thought in mind she put her hand against the radiator. It was ice cold.

With a heavy sigh, which produced a billowing cloud of water vapour from her lips, Constance returned upstairs to see Morgana asleep, completely oblivious to the chaos outside.

Constance knew that it would be a good idea to pull out the old heater from the wardrobe. She had found it while she was going through the house when she had first moved in and now was as good time to test it out. She plugged it into the wall socket and flipped the switch. Rather than the heater whirring however, the light above her head went out.

"Oh for-" She stopped herself before she swore and she went back downstairs to look for the fuse box.

Back at Cackle's, Davina had wandered downstairs with her recent purchase wrapped around her shoulders like a fur stole. She stroked it absently as she walked into the staff room to be greeted by a screech from Patricia who clambered into the cupboard, slamming the wooden doors behind her.

"What on Earth are you doing with that?" Amelia asked, looking at the scaly creature around Davina's neck.

"Do you like her? Her name is Medusa. I was getting bored of having a cat on the end of my broom so-"

"Please tell me you didn't feed Mittens to that thing!" Amelia said, trying to remain calm as she was faced with the hissing snake.

Davina laughed, stroking the snake's snout. Its forked tongue darted out for a moment and then retreated back into its mouth, "Oh no. I still have Mittens but Medusa will probably replace her as my flying partner."

There was a muffled squealing from the cupboard as Patricia peered out of the small glass window. It sounded like she was saying, "Get that thing outta here!"

Amelia looked over at the cupboard and then back at Medusa, "So what kind of snake is she?"

"She's a rainbow boa." Davina smiled happily as she looked at her new pet, "I think she's beautiful. Don't you?"

Amelia furrowed her brow, "Well she's not entirely appropriate for a school full of cats is she? And she's certainly not appropriate to wear around your shoulders like that!" She added, seeing that the snake was beginning to wrap around Davina's neck.

It was obvious from her expression that Davina felt very deflated by the headmistress' comment as she removed her new pet from her shoulders, holding her in her arms instead, and wandered up to her room. Amelia followed her.

"That's not to say you can't keep her in her tank but just don't put her on your broom."

Davina whirled around, looking furious. When she was annoyed Davina did one of two things; she normally took her conductor's baton and began to conduct an invisible orchestra, which were she not holding Medusa she would have been doing, and she would also start nodding her head frantically which she _was_ doing, "It doesn't matter, my happiness does it? All you and _her_ want is for me and Patricia to be dull and boring with normal cats rather than interesting reptiles-"

"I don't think Patricia was particularly taken with Medusa," Amelia whispered, realising that Davina's screeching had attracted an audience of curious third years, "Now if we could go to your room and we can sort out Medusa and have a chat about this."

With a scowl, Davina turned and marched to her bedroom. Amelia followed her again, greeting the girls who were stood over the balustrade watching their chanting mistress scream at the headmistress. Perhaps, Amelia thought as she followed Davina into her bedroom, she could have a breakthrough with the eccentric teacher.

Constance, however, was not having a breakthrough. She had found the fusebox, flipped all of the switches back to their original position but with no luck. The power was completely out. There was no phone line, the electric was off so she couldn't even make herself a cup of tea (the hob was electrically powered too).

She felt a furry head rubbing against her leg as she glared at the fuse box, cursing under breath as she tried the phone again. It was still dead. She slammed it back on the receiver and kicked the fridge in her rage.

"What do I do, Morgana?" She asked, picking up the little kitten and looking into those big green eyes, "What do you think I should do?"

Morgana mewed softly at her, pawing her cheek.

"That's not helping, darling," she whispered as she put her down on the dining room table. She bit her lip as she looked around, perhaps for an answer to her problems. Morgana returned to wrapping around her legs, following her mistress upstairs as she frantically searched for something to sort out the problem, "Morgana! Stop it!" She said loudly as the kitten jumped in front of her, on top of the chest at the foot of the bed. The kitten leapt onto her shoulders, purring deeply into her ears. The sensation was bizarre, almost like being tickled within her ear, "That tickles, stop it!"

Then it dawned on her... She pulled out a spell book from within the chest that Morgana had been standing on, "The Forbidden Almanac of Anarchy and Unruly Spells – don't you fail me now," and she opened the dusty volume, turning the pages until she found, "Mutato Glacies Tempestate. Just what you need during a bitter cold winter." She smiled to herself as she took the spell book to the window, peering out at the ever growing mountain of snow outside. Constance opened the window and pointed her casting fingers, chanting the incantation.

Nothing seemed to happen at first, so she waited, looking out across the village that was beginning to look like something out of a Christmas film. After a few minutes the snow began to fall more gently until it had completely stopped. The light above her head flicked back on and she rushed downstairs to the kitchen.

"Constance. What's the matter?" Amelia asked as she picked up the phone in her office.

She looked up at Davina who had calmed down after her panic attack over her pet snake and gestured for her to sit in one of the armchairs opposite her desk.

"I've managed to stop the snow from falling but I'm completely snowed in, Amelia. What do I do?"

Amelia turned in her seat and looked out of the window. To her horror she saw that the snow was pressing half way up the school walls. She turned back to her original position, "Goodness me. Well stay at the cottage until Sunday night like normal. See how much the snow has thawed and if you need to - fly out of your bedroom window."

Constance's voice crackled at the end of the phone, "Well I'll see what I can find to help thaw the snow so the girls can get out into the courtyard at break time-"

"Don't worry about the school, Constance. Just focus on yourself and that kitten of yours." And with that Amelia hung up the phone and turned back to Davina who had folded her arms grumpily across her chest.

"I'm not happy."

"I can tell." Amelia commented, seeing the childish expression on her chanting mistress's face, "Why don't you go and find Patricia and tell her what's happening with Medusa?"

"Fine," And with a moody turn of her head, Davina made her way to the staff room and knocked on the stationary cupboard door, "Trish?"

There was a mumbling noise from inside the cupboard and the door clicked open. Patricia popped her head out, "Is it gone?"

Davina shook her head and Patricia forced herself back into the cupboard.

"Well it's in my room in it's tank so you're safe now."

With a sigh of relief, Patricia clambered out of the cupboard, grabbing Davina's hand for support. She ran a hand through her short, blonde hair and then looked down at her tiny friend, "I don't like snakes at all."

Davina lowered her head, "I'm sorry, I forgot."

"I'm not bothered, love. Just keep that _thing_ away from me."

Davina nodded, looking at her shoes, "I just wanted an exciting pet."

Patricia took Davina's hand and led her to the staff room table. They both sat down. Patricia smiled kindly at her friend as she rubbed her doll-like hands, "I get that, love. Really I do. But exotic pets have no place in a school like this. Imagine if it got out and hurt one of the students. Do you get it?"

Davina nodded again.

"Got it?"

Davina nodded yet again.

"Good."

The staff room door opened and in stepped Amelia, "Have you seen the snow out there, Patricia?"

Patricia turned, still holding Davina's hand across the staff room table, and her jaw dropped as she looked out of the window, "Well how the hell am I meant to go outside for a fa- for me mornin' walk?"

Amelia took her seat, pulling her cardigan tightly around her, "I think lessons will be cancelled until the snow has cleared. Constance is trying to find something to get rid of it but with it being that deep I don't think even the strongest spell would touch it."

Amelia was completely right. Constance had gone through all of her spell books and had found nothing on spells to melt snow. She glowered at her ever rising pile of books on her coffee table. Morgana miaowed from the window sill of the living room, turning to look at her mistress and bounding over to nuzzle around her shoulders. Constance nuzzled her back and then put her head in her hands. What could she do? There were no spells in existence that could get rid of this snow!

"Why don't you create a spell?" A soft male voice whispered in her ear.

She jumped, expecting to see a man sitting on the arm of the turquoise chair, but there was no one there. After a deep, reassuring breath, she decided to do as the voice said and went upstairs to develop a spell. She wrote the chant first, then formulated the spell. She was glad of the blackboard in the spare room as she knelt down on the bed, scribbling different algorithms onto the dusty dark slate.

By nightfall the board was full of inexplicable formulae and Constance stood in the window, staring up at the waning moon; the perfect time to cast a spell like this.

"Nix Evanescunt, Splendidum Et Recedunt." She called out of the window, towards the pale moon. She could feel a thick electrical charge running through her body and tapering out of her casting fingers. With an explosion of brilliant blue light that lit the ground below, Constance was thrown backwards onto the spare bed. The force of the explosion was enough to knock her out as she lay there splayed out awkwardly. Morgana tottered into the room, mewing up at her mistress. She jumped up to nuzzle her, curling up by her head and fell asleep.

The morning light pouring in through the open bedroom window woke Constance with a start. The curtains were billowing in the wintry breeze. Rubbing the back of her head, Constance looked ouside. Children were playing in the street. The snow had thawed, her spell had worked!

That evening she packed her things to return to Cackle's, Morgana wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she flew, looking down at the thin layer of snow that remained behind after her spell. When she approached the heavy wooden door of the school, Amelia rushed out towards her.

"You did it!" She cried enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around Constance.

Constance smiled, "I made my own spell actually."

Amelia's eyes widened, "Your own spell? How on Earth... What made you think to do that?"

Constance didn't mention about the little voice in her ear yesterday, thinking that Amelia might decide to have her commited if she said anything about hearing disembodied voices. Instead she replied, "A guardian angel, perhaps?"


	19. A Cackle's Christmas

**_A/N: So here we go - the Christmas chapter. I know it's a couple of week's early but I hope you enjoy it!_**

* * *

"So are we ready to open presents now?" Asked Amelia as she looked at all of her staff.

It was Christmas Eve. The snow had returned but much calmer than it had done at the beginning of the month. The students were excited now that their exams were over until January and looking forward to opening their Christmas presents that had been placed under the tree in the Great Hall. A few of the girls were also excited to be visiting Petangle's Academy, one in particular being the snooty Delia Willow in the first year. Her sneering comment about Pentangle's during the camping trip hadn't gone unnoticed by Constance who had fed the information back to Amelia at the mention of the students visiting the rival school.

It was now, however, time for the annual trading of Secret Santa presents. Amelia had insisted that all four of the Secret Santa presents were placed beneath the fireplace in the staff room. Patricia gathered the presents and handed them out to the recipients. Constance had in front of her a parcel that was perfectly square and hard, shaped almost like a book.

Amelia began to count down as Patricia took her seat and together they unwrapped their gifts. Amelia had received a basket of kiwi fruit from Davina, which Davina started eating immediately, Davina had received a video tape from Amelia all about dancing.

"Oh howay, man. I don't wear that much clart on me face!" Patricia snapped as she pulled out the packet of face wipes that Constance had bought her. Constance chuckled to herself as Patricia mumbled something about unoriginal gifts and something about a "sarky mare".

Constance looked at the book that Patricia had bought her, a joke book. She looked up at Patricia and then down at the book again. She turned a page in the book and then looked back up at Patricia, "Question: What do you call a dinosaur that smashes everything in its path?"

Patricia smiled brightly, resting her chin on her ring covered hand, "A divinah. Gan on, flower."

"Tyrannosaurus Wrecks."

There was a collective sigh around the staff room, soon followed by the usual trading of scathing banter that followed something like a Secret Santa. Afterwards the staff took their presents up to their bedrooms and began to sort the girls out for the evening. The girls were told to go to bed early on Christmas Eve so their usual bedtime of half past eight had been pulled forward an hour to half past seven. This was to allow the staff to make sure all of the presents were under the tree for the girls and so the staff could also have an early night so they were well rested for Christmas morning.

"Did you celebrate Christmas when you were younger?" Davina asked Constance as they pulled all of the presents into piles and checked that all of the girls had their gifts from home.

Constance shook her head as she worked through the first years' gifts, "My father didn't care for Christmas. He never bought me a present or a card, not even for my birthday." She said, sounding almost wistful.

Davina smiled sorrowfully at Constance, patting her shoulder kindly as they continued, "Well, we'll make sure this is _extra special_ just for you, then."

Constance returned Davina's smile as they worked through the presents together and Amelia and Patricia decorated the Great Hall with bunting that spanned across the rafters.

Afterwards Constance performed her usual dorm duty for her first years, stalking back and forth through the corridor until all the candles were out.

"Miss Hardbroom?" A little voice came from behind her as she stalked around the corridor.

She turned sharply to see Caitlyn Shepherd standing behind her in her striped pyjamas, her long red hair pulled back into a loose braid, "Get back to bed, Caitlyn."

Caitlyn bit her lip, "I'm sorry, Miss. I just... Never mind." She muttered and then retreated back into her bedroom where she closed the door and eventually went back to sleep.

Once Constance was sure that all of the girls were asleep she went to bed, curling up with Morgana. She kissed the little kitten's head and then rested her head on the pillow. She looked up at the stone ceiling and childishly willed herself to hear the sound of sleigh bells and clattering hooves against the slippery roof tiles as she fell asleep.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" A voice boomed from the doorway, shocking Constance awake. Morgana, who hadn't moved throughout the night, leapt from her comfortable position beside Constance's head and launched herself on to the dresser, spitting wildly.

Constance looked up to see Davina wearing a red jumper with white letters knitted into it saying "Mrs Claus". The chanting mistress walked into the room and sat on the end of Constance's bed, "I have something for you," she whispered, handing Constance another parcel. She opened it and saw that it was a green and red fairisle jumper. When she unfolded it she saw that there was a brilliant green Christmas tree knitted across the front, "We can be sweater buddies!"

Constance widened her eyes, pursing her lips as she tried not to laugh out loud, "Whatever you say, Davina."

The students were already awake as she stepped into the Great Hall wearing her Christmas jumper. Piles upon piles of abandoned wrapping paper were building as they shredded open their presents. For today they had been told they could wear whatever the wanted, within reason. Most of the girls had decided to wear jeans and jumpers.

"Oh wow, a new bag!" Cried one girl as she opened her parcel.

"A load of sweets, nice one." Said another.

Constance saw her first years opening their gifts. Delia Willow had, of course, been sent a state of the art broomstick by her father. Her friend, Julia, had been sent a parcel of cakes. Constance saw Caitlyn opening her present which was in a white box. It was a jumper and some socks. The expression on the young girl's face sank as she pulled on her ill fitting jumper and balled up the black socks and put them in the back pocket of her jeans as she watched her friend Isla open her presents; sweets and some new comfy shoes.

Amelia took to the podium wearing a brown jumper with a Christmas pudding on the front that accentuated every bump and bulge on her form.

"Now girls," she announced, "I'd like to wish you all, on behalf of myself and all of your teachers, a very merry Christmas. Now to enjoy the festivities, onwards with the celebrations!"

In a puff of smoke breakfast appeared in front of the girls on the usual long wooden tables; hot pancakes with butter melting on top of them with a little jug of maple syrup per table.

"Is that really wise, headmistress? They will be bouncing off the walls for the rest of the day." Constance commented, seeing how much maple syrup some of the girls were pouring on to their pancakes, "What's wrong with their usual breakfasts of porridge?"

Amelia shook her off, "Really, Constance? It's Christmas day! They're allowed a treat."

The plates scraped loudly as everyone, including the teachers, enjoyed their breakfast. The pancakes were rather sweet for Constance's palette but she ate them all the same. As the girls rose from their seats Amelia spread her arms towards the ceiling. There was a brilliant flash of white light and with a loud cracking noise the light faded revealing a silver glitter ball lowering from the rafters and neon lights replacing where the stained glass windows had been.

Patricia had obviously ordered a DJ for the occasion. He was a scrawny young man with spiky brown hair and brilliant blue eyes nearly hidden behind the many vinyls on top of his booth.

"'E's the best DJ I could get!" Patricia shouted into Constance's ear as the young man started to play some horrendous music that was so obviously something Patricia had chosen.

"Who is he?!" Constance asked loudly.

"'is name's Ian but 'is stage name's Icy, Icy Stevens!" Patricia called as she was swept away by an oncoming hoard of students who were dancing. She began dancing with the girls who were laughing and joking, enjoying their Christmas party.

Constance stalked around the perimeter of the hall, observing the girls as they seemed to enjoy themselves. Amelia was dancing with Davina, twirling her around with the tip of her finger. Patricia was dancing with her second years.

She couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of the girls, enjoying their festivities. She had always felt like an outsider at Christmas; no family sending her presents, no cards... Despite the jumper Davina had given her earlier she didn't feel or look particularly festive.

There was a tap on her shoulder and she turned to see a high ponytail of red hair on top of an uncomfortable looking pale blue jumper, "Would you like to dance with me, Miss Hardbroom?"

Constance smiled, genuinely smiled, at Caitlyn, "I'd love to dear but I don't dance very well."

"Have you ever tried to dance?" She asked with a little smirk.

Constance's smile faltered. She had never been to a dance, she had never been to this kind of party really, unless handing out raffle tickets counted as attending. She refused the invitation from Caitlyn who returned to Isla and her other classmates, minus Delia and Julia who were busying themselves trying to become friendly with the older students.

Patricia shrieked as a song she had requested came on. She spread a space on the dance floor for herself and beckoned over Davina. They beat their arms together, clapping their heels as they danced.

Constance and Amelia stood watching them. Amelia was laughing but Constance wasn't really paying attention. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts of missing out on Christmas for twenty-one years that she didn't even see Patricia lift Davina into the air by her waist and the pair of them toppling over.

The music soon stopped, the Great Hall returned to normal and the tables reappeared in the centre of the room with different Christmas foods on top; turkey that had been already carved, stuffing, Christmas pudding, cranberry sauce...

"Ugh, sprouts." Constance heard Patricia mutter as she piled her plate with mashed potatoes and turkey.

"Don't sneer at sprouts, Patricia. They're very good for the digestive system." Davina commented as she popped a sprout into her mouth.

Patricia started forcing her food into her mouth, looking like a hamster as she tried to swallow her turkey that was drowning in a concoction of gravy and cranberry sauce.

The girls appeared to enjoy their Christmas dinner, but when the tables were being cleared by Mrs Tapioca she noted that nobody had touched the sprouts except Davina.

As the festivities came to an end the girls went to their rooms to relax and enjoy their new gifts. The staff went to the staff room for a cup of tea and to finish off the biscuit selection box that Amelia had bought. The only biscuits left were the plain and boring ones; no custard creams, no chocolate hobnobs or bourbon biscuits. It was the garibaldis and the shortbread biscuits that had been left at the bottom of the tin. Amelia was not happy as she dunked the biscuit into her tea.

Davina smiled to herself as she nibbled her garibaldi.

"What's so funny?" Patricia asked as she drained her cup.

Davina turned to her friend, "Isn't it strange how for the whole year the food is stone cold because we refuse to bring the food up from the kitchens using magic but on Christmas we are willing to face the Foster's Effect if it happens and bring the food up for the girls?"

Constance furrowed her brow, "Let's pretend that isn't true, shall we?"

The morning after Boxing Day the girls were packing their things ready to go to Pentangle's for the New Year. The rival school's headmistress had arrived earlier that morning to greet Amelia and her staff.

Miss Pentangle was a very tall woman with broad shoulders and a long face. Her dusty blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and tied with a purple ribbon that matched her deep purple suit. Constance thought that she actually looked quite a lot like Professor Thunderblast, the headmistress of Weirdsister College, though there was no chance that they were related. Professor Thunderblast was quite a softly spoken and gentle lady whereas Miss Pentangle was very boisterous.

"How are you doing, Cackle?" She scoffed as she helped herself to a biscuit from the new tin Amelia had bought the day before, "I see you've gotten rid of that stuffy old bird, Monkshood."

Constance flushed slightly as Miss Pentangle turned to look at her. She hated being the centre of attention like this.

"For your information, Phyllis Pentangle, Millicent Monkshood is getting older and she was ready to retire." Amelia said, sounding as though she was ready to explode. It was obvious she didn't enjoy being in the presence of Phyllis Pentangle, although she knew that she needed to remain welcoming if she wanted the girls to enjoy their trip away.

The door crashed opened and a familiar voice erupted from the doorway.

"How ye doin' Phyllis, lass? Long time no see!" Patricia boomed as she stepped into the staff room, wearing a zebra print boiler suit, her blonde hair teased into a quiff.

Miss Pentangle turned to look at Patricia, twisting in her seat, "Oh hello, Trish. How's that fella of yours?"

Patricia smiled, "Which one? I've got a new 'un now. His name's Daniel. I met him during the summer when I went to the Inner Hebrides," she stated as she took the seat to the right of Miss Pentangle.

"What's he like?" Miss Pentangle asked as she relaxed her posture.

Davina scowled as the old friends caught up. She obviously felt very pushed out, "You've changed your tune," she muttered almost inaudibly as she sulked in her chair, "Saying not to trust her and then she's your best friend."

Patricia appeared not to hear her as she continued her catch-up with Miss Pentangle.

There was a soft tap at the door. It was the head girl, Jennifer Moonshine, the older sister of Isla in the first year. She had the same round face and wire framed spectacles but her hair was slightly darker than Isla's.

"Ah, is that time to go?" Miss Pentangle asked, beating the arm of her chair as she rose to her feet, "It was lovely to see you all. Trish, let me know how you get on with that new bloke."

Constance followed Miss Pentangle out. She had been asked by Amelia to make sure the girls got away safely with the other headmistress so she followed the equally tall witch into the courtyard.

"So what are you wanting to do with yourself?" Miss Pentangle asked as she made her way to the courtyard, "You can't be wanting to stay in this dive for the rest of your life?"

Constance bit her tongue. She could have spat acid at that comment. Instead she forced a smile but her expression actually looked rather pained, "I enjoy working here, Miss Pentangle. It is a good school."

Miss Pentangle turned to her as she stepped out into the courtyard, "Well I've seen your testimonies. You know if you ever get sick of old Cackle I'm sure I could find a job for you at Pentangle's."

She drew out a purple business card from inside her blazer and handed it to Constance. She stared at it for a moment, listening as Miss Pentangle took to the air with the girls and they flew over the school like a cloud of starlings. Constance beat the business card against her palm as she walked through the silent, empty hallway and back to the staff room where she returned to her seat beside Amelia.

"What's that?" The headmistress asked as she swallowed a mouthful of her tea.

Constance passed it to her, "Miss Pentangle has offered me a job if I ever grow tired of working here."

Patricia's eyes widened as she looked at the business card that Amelia was holding, "But I've known her for years! She's never offered me a job," and then she added quickly, seeing the expression on Amelia's face, "N-n-not that I would ever want to leave Cackle's, Amelia."

Amelia sighed and began to pace the staff room, her hands folded behind her back in a very characteristic gesture, "She's poaching for fresh staff. She's obviously seen how good you are from the testimonials that are sent to the board of governors and wants you for her school," she turned on her heels and looked at Constance, "Would you ever take her up on her offer?"

Constance quickly shook her head.

"Good. Because you are the best and most qualified potions teacher we've ever had at Cackle's. You get the best results I've seen in a very long time. I hope you never feel the need to leave."

Constance blushed again, but this time for a positive reason. She was glad that Amelia felt this way about her results with the students. She had worked so hard to help the girls achieve their best scores and even with difficult students like Caitlyn she felt that she had made progress and to be told this by her employer was the greatest feeling.

"I don't want to leave. I like it here." Constance stated, trying to calm the obviously very paranoid Amelia.

Amelia took a deep, steadying breath and returned to her seat, "I'm glad." She took Constance's hand in her own and smiled warmly at her. Then she turned to Davina and Patricia, "Now about New Year..."


	20. Auld Lang Syne

It was New Years Eve and the staff of Cackle's Academy were getting ready for their night out to the pub in the village. Patricia was busy helping Davina with her makeup in her own bedroom. She still refused to set foot into Davina's room after she had decided to keep Medusa, her pet snake.

"So how are ye feelin' about tonight?" Patricia asked as she held Davina's face in a vice grip, trying to apply her eyeliner.

"Well I'm just planning on having some fun tonight. You and I can let our hair down and maybe the others will join us later." Davina said as she blinked her eyes, looking down at the makeup palettes Patricia had open on the bedroom floor.

The pair of them were sat cross legged on the floor with makeup brushes and makeup products surrounding them. Patricia picked up a blusher brush and a bright fuschia blush powder. Davina smiled as Patricia applied the makeup to the apples of her cheeks.

"Hello you!" Patricia smiled brightly as she saw her black cat, Julio, come scampering in from the corridor. He immediately started nuzzling his mistress,"Been catchin' meeses?"

"Meeses?" Davina asked, raising one of her fair eyebrows at her friend who put her head in a vice grip as she started grooming the pale hairs into a neat shape.

"Mice, you doyle. Anyway, how do you want your brows?" She asked, changing the topic as she began to fill in the tail of Davina's eyebrows.

"Just natural please. And don't call me that!" Davina's voice was muffled as her face was held at an awkward angle by Patricia.

Elsewhere in the castle Constance was getting dressed into a black and grey striped dress with long sleeves. She slipped her head through the neck of the dress and pulled it straight around her. She admired herself in the mirror within her wardrobe. After she brushed her hair, which had been straightened by magic, she kissed Morgana good night and walked to Amelia's bedroom. She tapped on the door and waited.

"Just a minute!" Came Amelia voice from behind the door. There was a lot of banging from behind the door and Constance could have sworn she heard Amelia cursing at her stockings. Eventually the bedroom door creaked open and Amelia stood before her wearing a peach dress and a white coat on top. She had a pale green eye shadow on her lids and a small amount of mascara. She looked quite lovely.

"Don't you look splendid? Come in, dear." Amelia smiled softly as she beckoned Constance in. She sat on the bed beside Luna and stroked the cat's head as she purred loudly.

Amelia's bedroom was a very pretty bedroom. She had had it decorated properly with white embossed wallpaper instead of the bare cold walls that were in all of the other bedrooms. There were pale green curtains in front of the slit windows to keep some warmth in. Constance couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of how cosy Amelia's room was in comparison to her own.

"What time are we leaving?" Constance asked from the bed as she scratched behind Luna's ears.

Amelia wandered over to her pine dressing table, retrieved a pale pink lipstick and applied a generous amount, "I believe in about five minutes. We can head downstairs now if you want?"

Constance shook her head, "No it's okay. We're in no rush," she pushed herself up from the bed and started to wander around the bedroom, looking at different features. Her eyes were drawn to one of the many photographs of Amelia and a strange man. This particular one was in a small wooden frame, "Who's this?"

She picked up the photograph and looked at it. It was of Amelia and a man - a very handsome man with slightly tanned skin, brown hair, sapphire blue eyes and a square jaw. Amelia was smiling up at the camera while the man looked down at her, his eyes filled with so much love, his face lit with a beaming smile.

Amelia smiled to herself, "Oh that's Nicholas," she peered around Constance, "That was just after we got married. We were doing a bit of gardening at the cottage and he thought it would be a nice idea to take a picture."

Constance wandered over to another photograph, obviously of their wedding day. Amelia was in a white dress, her then dark hair hanging around her shoulders in loose waves. Nicholas was wearing a crimson robe, a traditional piece. They were both cutting a tiered cake. Constance gave a little smile, wondering how much of the cake Amelia shared with her new husband.

"Millicent took that photograph. She was actually very talented with a camera before she started getting shaky hands. A curse of old age I suppose," Amelia commented, checking her rose-gold watch, "Oh we should go downstairs. It's already seven o'clock."

Constance nodded and followed the headmistress downstairs to the entrance hall. Patricia and Davina were already downstairs.

Patricia was wearing a black and white vertical striped dress with a cobalt blue blazer, her hair teased into a birds nest. She had thick black eyeliner covering most of her eyelids.

"What has happened to your face?" Constance cried when she saw the face beneath the mass of crimped mousy brown hair.

Davina had what could only be described as a complete Patricia makeover. Her usually natural look was replaced with a clown like blush on the apples of her cheeks and layers upon layers of mascara to give her a doll-like look. Her eyebrows had been drawn in so darkly and at such a steep angle that she looked like she was quite shocked.

"What's wrong with it?" Davina asked, running a hand through her mane of crimped hair, "I think I look quite nice."

Constance bit her tongue, stifling a little chuckle as she looked at Amelia whose shoulders were shaking as she was fighting back her own laughter.

"So are you Wurzel Gummidge?" Amelia muttered as she looked at Patricia.

"Ye what?" Patricia snapped.

Amelia pursed her lips, looking at the ground as they walked out of the castle, "Oh nothing."

Constance couldn't remove her eyes from Davina. Her face was just magnetic; she didn't want to look at it but she couldn't help it.

"You look quite nice," Davina said, hooking her arm through Constance's so she didn't slip on the mud on the forest floor.

Constance scowled at the contact but attempted, somewhat clumsily, to return the compliment, "How do you find the time to crimp your hair everyday?"

Davina chuckled to herself, "Oh no. This is all natural. Well apart from the makeup."

"Oh. Alright then." She replied with a little bit of a wistful tone.

Soon they were walking past Constance's cottage and up towards the pub. Patricia had brought a bit of extra money with her so she could buy some vodka and wine for when they went back to Constance's after midnight.

They entered the pub and Amelia ordered everyone a drink. It was filled to the brim with villagers wishing to welcome in the New Year together. Gloria Cosie was stood by a table filled with sandwiches and cakes.

"The buffet is only one pound if you want to have some. The money goes to a good cause!" She called. It was indeed going to a very good cause. Gloria Cosie had contacted a local animal shelter and had asked for a collection box. All of the money from the buffet was going to pay for food and heating to make sure the animals were safe during the cold winter months.

Patricia, Davina and Constance found a table near the bar and sat down. Amelia brought over the drinks and placed them on the table for everyone, "Constance, I know you're not drinking so I bought you a blackcurrant lemonade."

Constance felt quite childish with her soft drink while everyone else had either wine or beer. All the same she thanked Amelia and drank it. Patricia had a glass of sherry which was emptied as soon as it touched her lips.

"Have you got any plans for the half term holiday in February, Trish?" Davina asked after the second round of drinks had been brought in.

Patricia smiled giddily to herself, "I think I'm going to go and see my fella up in Eigg for a bit. How about you?"

"I'm going to practice my Inner Mongolian Undertone Chanting-"

"Please don't, Davina," Amelia said quietly, "The last time you did that with the fourth years you nearly reconstructed the school roof."

Constance frowned into her drink as she sipped it. She felt so lonely sitting there surrounded by people. Even though she was there with her colleagues she had nothing to talk about. She would probably spend the half term in her cottage marking homework. She had no friends to see, no family, no partner to spend time with. She was actually quite jealous of Patricia, for a change, as she had Daniel to keep her company.

"I bet you have somethin' planned, do ye?" Patricia asked, nudging Constance out of her thoughts.

"Oh, um, I... I haven't thought that far ahead."

"Well you are welcome to come with me to Eigg if you have nothin' else to do, flower. I'm sure wor Dan won't mind."

"I'd prefer not to. I'd feel like I would be imposing," Constance said with a slight smile, "Thank you all the same."

After what felt like an age, it was five minutes to midnight. Patricia could barely stand up and Davina and Amelia were dancing near the jukebox. Constance was babysitting Patricia but was beginning to feel slightly dizzy. There was no air in the room and the fumes of alcohol were starting to go to her head. She got up from her seat and pushed her way to Amelia.

"Amelia!" She shouted in the headmistress' ear, "I'm going to get some air."

"But it's nearly midnight! You can't go. Come on, wait a few minutes." Amelia smiled brightly, twirling Davina. Constance shook her head as she pushed her way out of the pub and into the street.

"Alrigh' darlin'?" Slurred a bald headed man in the doorway who grabbed Constance's backside, "I need a nice bird to kiss a' midnight and we've only go' a few minutes to go."

Constance glared at him as she heard a cheer from within the pub. She walked away from him and walked into the street where she could smell smoke... like burning wood.

She began to walk to the cottage, thinking that perhaps she had just been overwhelmed by the atmosphere. Some time alone could do her some good. She fetched the keys out of her clutch bag and looked up at the cottage – which was ablaze.

Thick dark smoke pressed against the windows as an inferno raged within. Constance stared up at it, frozen by shock as her mouth hung open in a silent scream. There was a hissing noise from within the cottage as the flames grew larger, the smoke beginning to escape around the edges of the glass paned windows.

"Oh, what is it...?" She asked herself as she bit her lip, trying to remember a stopping spell, "Ah!" And with a pop, the fire began to dwindle until all that was left were embers.

She approached the blackened front door and touched the back of her hand to the handle. It was still too hot to go inside, to assess the damage. All of her clothes, her spell books... Destroyed. Who would want to do this?

Constance's attention was drawn from the house to a head of brilliant red hair. Emma came walking around the corner of the street, flicking a lighter in her glove-clad hands, "Amazing what you can achieve with a bit of petrol and a fag lighter, isn't it?"

"What?" Constance whispered as she walked slowly towards Emma, trying to remain calm, "You did this?!"

"You never worked it out did you? As though the brightest witch of her age never took the hint!" She gave an all too familiar beastly cackle, a cackle Constance was not expecting to hear. Her fists were clenched tightly, "Remember that time when we were on your couch?"

Constance nodded slowly, wondering where Emma was going with this, "You think this is funny? You've destroyed my home-"

"Let me tell the story!" Snapped Emma. She cleared her throat, sweeping her red hair away from her eyes, "You remember you started freaking out, thinking that I was Broomhead?"

Constance nodded again, watching as Emma approached her. She placed a cold hand on Constance's shoulder and leaned into her ear.

"Emma never existed," she hissed in an icy voice, pulling away to reveal not Emma's round face but the bony face of Mistress Hecketty Broomhead, lit with a truly wicked smile, "I can't have you working for a second division school like Cackle's, Constance. I had to keep an eye on you. I'll do anything in my power to ensure your success. Now you will take that job at Pentangle's-"

"How do you know about that?" Gasped Constance, feeling her chest growing tighter.

Mistress Broomhead smiled nastily, "I have eyes and ears everywhere, dear. Now," she took hold of Constance's shoulder and looked deeply into her tear filled brown eyes with her ice cold grey ones, "Be a good girl and do as I say, or you know what will happen."

She pushed off Mistress Broomhead's talons with a brush of her other hand, "You don't control me."

There were footsteps from around the corner. It was Amelia. She caught sight of Mistress Broomhead as she grimaced, folding her arms and disappearing into thin air. Constance felt a weight lift from her chest, her legs solidifying again as Amelia rushed to her, holding her in her arms.

"What's happened, did she..." Her eyes followed Constance's as they looked up to the cottage together. Amelia furrowed her brow and then turned to look at Constance. Though she was remaining strong it was obvious that Amelia's heart was breaking inside. All the memories she had made there were burned to a crisp, "Did she do this?"

Constance nodded almost imperceptibly as Amelia placed her head on her shoulder, trying to offer some comfort as the village clock struck midnight. There was no Fairy Godmother to make her problems go away at the turn of the clock, no magic spell to be performed. Her life lay in irreparable tatters, embers at her feet as she listened to the chorus of villagers singing _Auld Lang Syne_ across the village square.

The next morning Constance awoke in her bed at Cackle's to the sound of someone knocking on her bedroom door. She called out to them, stretching as she stood up to answer the door, running her fingers through her mane-like hair. It was Amelia wearing a pair of long, pale blue and white striped pyjamas. Her hair was thick with sleep and she was still rubbing her eyes free of dust.

"How are you feeling?" She asked as she stepped into the bedroom, patting Constance's arm.

Closing the door behind her, Constance shrugged, "Is numb an answer?"

Amelia smiled delicately at her, "You can stay at the castle for as long as you need to. I'll arrange for the repairs to be done so you can move back in when you're ready."

Constance sat down beside Amelia on the bed as Morgana nuzzled her arm, trying to sit on her lap, "What if I don't want to move back to the cottage?"

Pausing for a moment, looking both confused and thoughtful, Amelia said, "I don't understand." She began stroking the little black cat, her olive green eyes blinking up at her, "Where will you live?"

"Well I'd live here. Amelia, I know what you're going to say but after last night this is the only place I feel safe from Her. This is the only place where I feel that she can't get to me."

Amelia's shoulders sank as she looked up at Constance, "If Davina or Patricia asked me that same question I would have refused. But I trust you very much," and she stood up, looking down at her, "We will trial it during the half term holidays. If you change your mind, however, the cottage will be repaired by the end of the month. I'll have my friend, Frank Blossom, get to work on it."

Constance relaxed as Amelia left the bedroom to get dressed. Over breakfast they discussed the logistics and Constance explained the evening's events to Davina and Patricia.

"Well it's nee wonder ye wantin' to stay 'ere. I would if I could," Croaked Patricia as she took a large mouthful of coffee and feasted on a mountain of breakfast.

Amelia smiled, "Well I'll be here during the summer if you need anything. This castle can be quite lonely when you're here on your own. I'll be glad of the company, actually."

Constance tapped Amelia's hand. The events of the night before were going to be hard to deal with on her own, but she was thankful for the supportive friends that she had made at Cackle's Academy for Witches.

* * *

 _ **A/N: And that's it! I hope you've enjoyed this story. Thank you to everyone who has taken time out of their day to read this and to leave a review. A big special thank you to DreamsInLilac. Without her inspiration, help and support this story wouldn't be nearly as good.**_

 ** _Coming up; a few one shots, one Christmas story and another based on the books followed by The Misadventures of Patricia Gimlet._**

 ** _Again, thank you so much for reading and I hope you've enjoyed the final chapter of A Time to Try._**


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